THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER  UNDER 
STONEWALL  JACKSON 


GENERAL  "STONEWALL"  JACKSON 


The  Story  of  a  Cannoneer 
Under  Stonewall  Jackson 


IN  WHICH   IS   TOLD   THE   PART  TAKEN   BY  THE 

ROCKBRIDGE  ARTILLERY  IN  THE  ARMY 

OF  NORTHERN  VIRGINIA 


BY 

EDWARD   A.   MOORE 

Of  the  licckb-idge  Ai'iPeiy 


WITH   INTRODUCTIONS   BY 

CAPT.  ROBERT  E.  LEE,  JR.,  AND  HON.  HENRY 
ST.  GEORGE  TUCKER 


Fully  Illustrated  by  Portraits 


LYNCHBURG,  VA. 

J.  P.  BELL  COMPANY,  INC. 

1910 


Copyright,  1907,  by 
.  '*  ,-EpWARD  A.-  MOQ&E 


To  THE  SPARTAN  MOTHER 

WHO   UNFLINCHINGLY  SENT   HER    FOUR  SONS 
TO  THE  FIELD 

AND 

To  THE  WIFE 

WITHOUT  WHOSE  ASSISTANCE  AND    ENCOURAGEMENT 

IT  WOULD  NEVER   HAVE   BEEN   WRITTEN, 

THIS  VOLUME  IS  AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED 


PREFACE 

MORE  than  thirty  years  ago,  at  the  solicitation 
of  my  kinsman,  H.  C.  McDowell,  of  Kentucky,  I 
undertook  to  write  a  sketch  of  my  war  experience. 
McDowell  was  a  major  in  the  Federal  Army  during 
the  civil  war,  and  with  eleven  first  cousins,  includ 
ing  Gen.  Irvin  McDowell,  fought  against  the  same 
number  of  first  cousins  in  the  Confederate  Army. 
Various  interruptions  prevented  the  completion  of 
my  work  at  that  time.  More  recently,  after  despair 
ing  of  the  hope  that  some  more  capable  member  of 
my  old  command,  the  Rockbridge  Artillery,  would 
not  allow  its  history  to  pass  into  oblivion,  I  resumed 
the  task,  and  now  present  this  volume  as  the  only 
published  record  of  that  company,  celebrated  as  it 
was  even  in  that  matchless  body  of  men,  the  Army 
of  Northern  Virginia. 

E.  A.  M. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction  by  Capt.  Robert  E.  Lee,  Jr.  .  13 

Introduction  by  Henrv  St.  George  Tucker 15 

I — Washington     College — Lexington — Virginia     Mili 
tary    Institute 19 

II— Entering  the  Service— My  First   Battle— Battle  of 

Kernstown      25 

ITT— The  Retreat— Cedar  Creek— General  Ashby— Skir 
mishes — McGaheysville  35 

IV — Swift  Run  Gap — Reorganization  of  the  Battery — 
Wading  in  the  Mud— Crossing  and  Recrossing 
the  Blue  Ridge — Battle  of  McDowell — Return 

to    the    Valley 44 

V — Bridgewater — Luray     Valley — Front     Royal — Fol 
lowing  General  Banks — Xight  March — Battle  of 

Winchester — Bank's     Retreat 53 

V 1  — Capturing  Federal  Cavalry — Charlestovvn — Extra 
ordinary  March  o2 

VII — General  Jackson  Xarrowly  Escapes  Being  Cap 
tured  at  Port  Republic — Contest  Between  Con 
federates  and  Federals  for  Bridge  over  Shenan- 

doah      h8 

VIII— Baltic  of  Port  Republic 74 

IX — From  Brown's  Gap  to  Staunton — From  Staunton 
to  Richmond — Cold  Harbor— General  Lee  Visits 

His   Son   in  the   Battery 80 

X — General    Jackson    Compliments    the    Battery — Mal- 

vern   Hill — My  Visit  to   Richmond 89 

XI — From  Richmond  to  Gordonsville — Battle  of  Cedar 
Run— Death  of  General  Winder — Deserters  Shot 
— Cross  the  Rappahannock  96 


10  CONTENTS 


PAGE 

XII — Capture  of  Railroad  Trains  at  Manassas  Junction 
—Battle  with  Taylor's  New  Jersey  Brigade — 
Night  March  by  Light  of  Burning  Cars 105 

XIII — Circuitous    Night   March — First   Day   of   Second 

Manassas — Arrival  of  Longstreet's  Corps ••••    113 

XIV — The  Second  Battle  of  Manassas — Incidents  and 

Scenes  on  the  Battlefield 120 

XV — Battle  of  Chantilly — Leesburg — Crossing  the  Po 
tomac  128 

XVI — Maryland — My   Day  in   Frederick   City 133 

XVII — Return  to  Virginia — Investment  and  Capture  of 

Harper's   Ferry 141 

XVIII — Into    Maryland    Again — Battle    of    Sharpsburg — 

Wounded — Return  to  Winchester — Home  •  •  •  •    147 

XIX — Return  to  Army — In  Winter-quarters  Near  Port 

Royal   165 

XX — Second    Battle    of    Fredericksburg— Chancellors- 
ville — Wounding     and     Death     of     Stonewall 
Jackson    176 

XXI — Opening  of  Campaign  of  1863 — Crossing  to  the 
Valley — Battle  at  Winchester  with  Milroy — 
Crossing  the  Potomac 185 

XXII — On  the  Way  to  Gettysburg — Battle  of  Gettysburg 

—Retreat     193 

XXIII— At  "The  Bower"— Return  to  Orange  County,  Vir 
ginia — Blue  Run  Church — Bristow  Station — 
Rappahannock  Bridge — Supplementing  Camp 
Rations  208 

XXIV— Battle  of  Mine  Run— March  to  Frederick's  Hall— 
Winter-quarters — Social  Affairs — Again  to  the 
Front — Narrow  Escape  from  Capture  by  Gen 
eral  Dahlgren — Furloughs — Cadets  Return 
from  New  Market  —  Spottsylvania  and  the 
Wilderness — Return  to  Army  at  Hanover 
Junction — Panic  at  Night 218 

XXV— Second  Cold  Harbor— Wounded— Return  Home— 

Refugeeing  from  Hunter 233 

XXVI — Personal  Mention  of  Officers  and  Men — Rock- 
bridge  Artillery — Second  Rockbridge  Artil 
lery  245 


CONTENTS  11 


PAGE 

XXVII— Oakland— Return  to  Camp— Off  Duty  Again— 
The  Race  from  New  Market  to  Fort  Gilmore 
— Attack  on  Fort  Harrison — Winter-quarters 
on  the  Lines — Visits  to  Richmond 274 

XXVIII — Evacuation  of  Richmond — Passing  Through 
Richmond  by  Night— The  Retreat— Battle  of 
Sailor's  Creek  —  Battle  of  Cumberland 
Church  288 

XXIX— Appomattox    301 

Appendix 309 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

General  "Stonewall"  Jackson Frontispiece 

Edward  A.  Moore,  February,  1907 19 

Gun  from  which  was  fired  the  first  hostile  cannon-shot  in 

the  Valley  of  Virginia 25 

Captain  William  T.  Poague,  April,  1862— April,  1863 58 

William    M.    Willson    (Corporal) 84 

Robert  A.  Gibson 100 

D.  Gardiner  Tyler Ill 

Edward  A.  Moore,  March,  1862 134 

R.    T.    Barton 161 

Winter-quarters,    Mess    No.     12,     Rockbridge    Artillery, 

1862-3    169 

B.  C.  M.  Friend 191 

John  M.  Brown   (war-time  portrait) 211 

W.    S.    McClintic 224 

Robert    Frazer 239 

Edward    H.    Hyde    (Color-bearer) 253 

John    M.    Brown 273 

Randolph   Fairfax    284 

Launcelot    Minor 299 

Fac-simile  of  parole  signed  by  General  Pendleton 306 


12 


INTRODUCTION  BY  CAPT.  ROBERT  E. 
LEE,  JR. 

THE  title  of  this  book  at  once  rivets  attention 
and  invites  perusal,  and  that  perusal  does  not  dis 
appoint  expectation.  The  author  was  a  cannoneer 
in  the  historic  Rockbridge  (Va. )  Artillery,  which 
made  for  itself,  from  Manassas  to  Appomattox,  a 
reputation  second  to  none  in  the  Confederate  ser 
vice.  No  more  vivid  picture  has  been  presented  of 
the  private  soldier  in  camp,  on  the  march,  or  in 
action.  It  was  written  evidently  not  with  any  com 
mercial  view,  but  was  an  undertaking  from  a  con 
viction  that  its  performance  was  a  question  of  duty 
to  his  comrades.  Its  unlabored  and  spontaneous 
character  adds  to  its  value.  Its  detail  is  evidence 
of  a  living  presence,  intent  only  upon  truth.  It  is 
not  only  carefully  planned,  but  minutely  finished. 
The  duty  has  been  performed  faithfully  and  enter 
tainingly. 

\Ye  are  glad  these  delightful  pages  have  not  been 
marred  by  discussion  of  the  causes  or  conduct  of 
the  great  struggle  between  the  States.  There  is  no 
theorizing  or  special  pleading  to  distract  our  atten 
tion  from  the  unvarnished  story  of  the  Confederate 
soldier. 

The  writer  is  simple,  impressive,  and  sincere. 
And  his  memory  is  not  less  faithful.  It  is  a  strik- 

13 


14  INTRODUCTION 

ing  and  truthful  portrayal  of  the  times  under  the 
standard  of  one  of  the  greatest  generals  of  ancient 
or  modern  times.  It  is  from  such  books  that  data 
will  be  gathered  by  the  future  historian  for  a  true 
story  of  the  great  conflict  between  the  States. 

For  nearly  a  year  (from  March  to  November, 
1862)  I  served  in  the  battery  with  this  cannoneer, 
and  for  a  time  we  were  in  the  same  mess. 
Since  the  war  I  have  known  him  intimately,  and  it 
gives  me  great  pleasure  to  be  able  to  say  that  there 
is  no  one  who  could  give  a  more  honest  and  truthful 
account  of  the  events  of  our  struggle  from  the 
standpoint  of  a  private  soldier.  He  had  exceptional 
opportunities  for  observing  men  and  events,  and 
has  taken  full  advantage  of  them. 

ROBERT  E.  LEE. 


INTRODUCTION   BY  HENRY  ST.   GEORGE 
TUCKER 

BETWEEN  1740  and  1750  nine  brothers  by  the 
name  of  Moore  emigrated  from  the  north  of  Ireland 
to  America.  Several  of  them  settled  in  South  Caro 
lina,  and  of  these  quite  a  number  participated  in  the 
Revolutionary  War,  several  being  killed  in  battle. 
One  of  the  nine  brothers,  David  by  name,  came  to 
Virginia  and  settled  in  the  "Borden  Grant,"  now 
the  northern  part  of  Rockbridge  County.  There, 
in  1752,  his  son,  afterward  known  as  Gen.  Andrew 
Moore,  was  born.  His  mother  was  a  Miss  Evans, 
of  Welsh  ancestry.  Andrew  Moore  was  educated 
at  an  academy  afterward  known  as  Liberty  Hall. 
In  early  life  with  some  of  his  companions  he  made 
a  voyage  to  the  West  Indies ;  was  shipwrecked,  but 
rescued,  after  many  hardships,  by  a  passing  vessel 
and  returned  to  the  Colonies.  Upon  his  return  home 
he  studied  law  in  the  office  of  Chancellor  Wythe,  at 
Williamsburg,  and  was  licensed  to  practice  law  in 
1774.  In  1776  he  entered  the  army  as  lieutenant, 
in  Morgan's  Riflemen,  and  was  engaged  in  those 
battles  which  resulted  in  the  capture  of  Burgoyne's 
army,  and  at  the  surrender  of  the  British  forces  at 
Saratoga.  For  courage  and  gallantry  in  battle  he 
was  promoted  to  a  captaincy.  Having  served  three 

15 


16  INTRODUCTION 

years  with  Morgan,  he  returned  home  and  took  his 
seat  as  a  member  of  the  Virginia  legislature,  taking 
such  an  active  and  distinguished  part  in  the  delib 
erations  of  that  body  that  he  was  elected  to  Con 
gress,  and  as  a  member  of  the  first  House  of  Rep 
resentatives  was  distinguished  for  his  services  to 
such  a  degree  that  he  was  re-elected  at  each  suc 
ceeding  election  until  1797,  when  he  declined  fur 
ther  service  in  that  body,  but  accepted  a  seat  in  the 
Virginia  House  of  Delegates.  He  was  again  elected 
to  Congress  in  1804,  but  in  the  first  year  of  his 
service  he  was  elected  to  the  United  States  Senate, 
in  which  body  he  served  with  distinguished  ability 
until  1809,  when  he  retired.  He  was  then  appointed 
United  States  Marshal  for  the  District  of  Virginia, 
which  office  he  held  until  his  death,  April  14,  1821. 
His  brother  William  served  as  a  soldier  in  the  In 
dian  wars,  and  the  Revolutionary  War.  He  was  a 
lieutenant  of  riflemen  at  Pt.  Pleasant,  and  carried 
his  captain,  who  had  been  severely  wounded,  from 
the  field  of  battle,  after  killing  the  Indian  who  was 
about  to  scalp  him — a  feat  of  courage  and  strength 
rarely  equaled.  Gen.  Andrew  Moore's  wife  was 
Miss  Sarah  Reid,  a  descendant  of  Capt.  John  Mc 
Dowell,  who  was  killed  by  the  Indians,  December 
18,  1742,  on  James  River,  in  Rockbridge  County. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  Capt.  Andrew  Reid,  a 
soldier  of  the  French  and  Indian  War. 

Our  author's  father  was  Capt.  David  E.  Moore, 
for  twenty-three  years  the  Attorney  for  the  Com- 


INTRODUCTION  17 

momvealth  for  Rockbridge  County,  and  a  member 
of  the  Constitutional  Convention,  1850-51.  His 
mother  was  Miss  Elizabeth  Harvey,  a  descendant 
of  Benjamin  Borden,  and  daughter  of  Matthew 
Harvey,  who  at  sixteen  years  of  age  ran  away  from 
home  and  became  a  member  of  "Lee's  Legion," 
participating  in  the  numerous  battles  in  which  that 
distinguished  corps  took  part. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  our  author  is  of  martial 
stock  and  a  worthy  descendant  of  those  who  never 
failed  to  respond  to  the  call  to  arms ;  the  youngest 
of  four  brothers,  one  of  whom  surrendered  under 
General  Johnston,  the  other  three  at  Appomattox, 
after  serving  throughout  the  war.  It  is  safe  to  say 
that  Virginia  furnished  to  the  Confederate  service 
no  finer  examples  of  true  valor  than  our  author  and 
his  three  brothers. 

HENRY  ST.  GEORGE  TUCKER. 

Lexington,  Va., 

December  20,  1906. 


EDWARD  A.  MOORE 

(1907) 


THE   STORY  OF   A  CANNONEER   UNDER 
STONEWALL  JACKSON 


CHAPTER  I 

WASHINGTON         COLLEGE LEXINGTON" VIRGINIA 

MILITARY  INSTITUTE 

AT  the  age  of  eighteen  I  was  a  member  of  the 
Junior  Class  at  Washington  College  at  Lexington, 
Virginia,  during  the  session  of  1860-61,  and  with 
the  rest  of  the  students  was  more  interested  in  the 
foreshadowings  of  that  ominous  period  than  in  the 
teachings  of  the  professors.  Among  our  number 
there  were  a  few  from  the  States  farther  south  who 
seemed  to  have  been  born  secessionists,  while  a  large 
majority  of  the  students  were  decidedly  in  favor  of 
the  Union. 

Our  president,  the  Rev.  Dr.  George  Junkin,  who 
hailed  from  the  North,  was  heart  and  soul  a  Union 
man,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  one  of  his 
daughters  was  the  first  wife  of  Major  Thomas  J. 
Jackson,  who  developed  into  the  world-renowned 
"Stonewall"  Jackson.  Another  daughter  was  the 
great  Southern  poetess,  Mrs.  Margaret  J.  Preston, 
and  Dr.  Junkin's  son,  Rev.  W.  F.  Junkin,  a  most 

19 


20       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

lovable  man,  became  an  ardent  Southern  soldier  and 
a  chaplain  in  the  Confederate  Army  throughout  the 
war. 

At  the  anniversary  of  the  Washington  Literary 
:  Society;,  ;on' February  22,  1861,  the  right  of  seces 
sion  'waV attacked  and  defended  by  the  participants 
:-ir<thV  discussion,  with  no  less  zeal  than  they  after 
ward  displayed  on  many  bloody  battlefields. 

We  had  as  a  near  neighbor  the  Virginia  Military 
Institute,  "The  West  Point  of  the  South,"  where 
scores  of  her  young  chivalry  were  assembled,  who 
were  eager  to  put  into  practice  the  subjects  taught 
in  their  school.  Previous  to  these  exciting  times 
not  the  most  kindly  feelings,  and  but  little  inter 
course  had  existed  between  the  two  bodies  of  young 
men.  The  secession  element  in  the  College,  how 
ever,  finding  more  congenial  company  among  the 
cadets,  opened  up  the  way  for  quite  intimate  and 
friendly  relations  between  the  two  institutions.  In 
January,  1860,  the  corps  of  cadets  had  been  ordered 
by  Governor  Wise  to  be  present,  as  a  military  guard, 
at  the  execution  of  John  Brown  at  Harper's  Ferry. 
After  their  return  more  than  the  usual  time  was 
given  to  the  drill;  and  target-shooting  with  cannon 
and  small  arms  was  daily  practised  in  our  hearing. 

Only  a  small  proportion  of  the  citizens  of  the 
community  favored  secession,  but  they  were  very 
aggressive.  One  afternoon,  while  a  huge  Union 
flag-pole  was  being  raised  on  the  street,  which  when 
half-way  up  snapped  and  fell  to  the  ground  in 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       21 

pieces,  I  witnessed  a  personal  encounter  between  a 
cadet  and  a  mechanic  (the  latter  afterward  deserted 
from  our  battery  during  the  Gettysburg  campaign 
in  Pennsylvania,  his  native  State),  which  was 
promptly  taken  up  by  their  respective  friends.  The 
cadets  who  were  present  hastened  to  their  barracks 
and,  joined  by  their  comrades,  armed  themselves, 
and  with  fixed  bayonets  came  streaming  at  double- 
quick  toward  the  town.  They  were  met  at  the  end 
of  Main  street  by  their  professors,  conspicuous 
among  whom  was  Colonel  Colston  on  horseback. 
He  was  a  native  of  France  and  professor  of  French 
at  the  Institute;  he  became  a  major-general  in  the 
Confederate  Army  and  later  a  general  in  the  Egyp 
tian  Army.  After  considerable  persuasion  the  ca 
dets  were  induced  to  return  to  their  barracks. 

Instead  of  the  usual  Saturday  night  debates  of 
the  College  literary  societies,  the  students  either 
joined  the  cadets  in  their  barracks  at  the  Institute 
or  received  them  at  the  College  halls  to  harangue 
on  the  one  absorbing  topic. 

On  the  top  of  the  main  building  at  the  College 
was  a  statue  of  Washington,  and  over  this  statue 
some  of  the  students  hoisted  a  palmetto  flag.  This 
greatly  incensed  our  president.  He  tried,  for  some 
time,  but  in  vain,  to  have  the  flag  torn  down.  When 
my  class  went  at  the  usual  hour  to  his  room  to  re 
cite,  and  before  we  had  taken  our  seats,  he  inquired 
if  the  flag  was  still  flying.  On  being  told  that  it 
was,  he  said,  "The  class  is  dismissed ;  I  will  never 


22       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

hear  a  recitation  under  a  traitor's  flag!"  And 
away  we  went. 

Lincoln's  proclamation  calling  for  75,000  men 
to  whip  in  the  seceded  States,  was  immediately  fol 
lowed  by  the  ordinance  of  secession,  and  the  idea 
of  union  was  abandoned  by  all.  Recitation-bells  no 
longer  sounded;  our  books  were  left  to  gather  dust, 
and  forgotten,  save  only  to  recall  those  scenes  that 
filled  our  minds  with  the  mighty  deeds  and  prowess 
of  such  characters  as  the  "Ruling  Agamemnon" 
and  his  warlike  cohorts,  and  we  could  almost  hear 
"the  terrible  clang  of  striking  spears  against  shields, 
as  it  resounded  throughout  the  army." 

There  was  much  that  seems  ludicrous  as  we  re 
call  it  now.  The  youths  of  the  community,  imbued 
with  the  idea  that  "cold  steel"  would  play  an  im 
portant  part  in  the  conflict,  provided  themselves 
with  huge  bowie-knives,  fashioned  by  our  home 
blacksmith,  and  with  these  fierce  weapons  swing 
ing  from  their  belts  were  much  in  evidence.  There 
were  already  several  organized  military  companies 
in  the  county.  The  Rockbridge  Rifles,  and  a  com 
pany  of  cavalry  left  Lexington  April  17,  under  or 
ders  from  Governor  John  Letcher,  our  townsman, 
who  had  just  been  inaugurated  Governor  of  Vir 
ginia,  to  report  at  Harper's  Ferry.  The  cavalry 
company  endeavored  to  make  the  journey  without 
a  halt,  and  did  march  the  first  sixty- four  miles  in 
twenty-four  hours. 

The  students  formed  a  company  with  J.  J.  White, 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON       23 

professor  of  Greek,  as  their  captain.  Drilling  was 
the  occupation  of  the  clay;  the  students  having  ex 
cellent  instructors  in  the  cadets  and  their  profes 
sors.  Our  outraged  president  had  set  out  alone  in 
his  private  carriage  for  his  former  home  in  the 
North. 

Many  of  the  cadets  were  called  away  as  drill- 
masters  at  camps  established  in  different  parts  of 
the  South,  and  later  became  distinguished  officers 
in  the  Confederate  Army,  as  did  also  a  large  num 
ber  of  the  older  alumni  of  the  Institute. 

The  Rockbridge  Artillery  Company  was  organ 
ized  about  this  time,  and,  after  a  fortnight's  drill 
ing  with  the  cadet's  battery,  was  ordered  to  the 
front,  under  command  of  Rev.  W.  X.  Pendlcton, 
rector  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  a  graduate  of 
\Yest  Point,  as  captain. 

The  cadets  received  marching  orders,  and  on  that 
morning,  for  the  first  time  since  his  residence  in 
Lexington,  Major  Jackson  was  seen  in  his  element. 
As  a  professor  at  the  Virginia  Military  Institute  he 
was  remarkable  only  for  strict  punctuality  and  dis 
cipline.  I,  with  one  of  my  brothers,  had  been  as 
signed  to  his  class  in  Sunday-school,  where  his  regu 
lar  attendance  and  earnest  manner  were  equally 
striking. 

It  was  on  a  beautiful  Sunday  morning  in  May 
that  the  cadets  received  orders  to  move,  and  I  re 
member  how  we  were  all  astonished  to  see  the 
Christian  major,  galloping  to  and  fro  on  a  spirited 
horse,  preparing  for  their  departure. 


24      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

In  the  arsenal  at  the  Institute  were  large  stores 
of  firearms  of  old  patterns,  which  were  hauled  away 
from  time  to  time  to  supply  the  troops.  I,  with  five 
others  of  the  College  company,  was  detailed  as  a 
guard  to  a  convoy  of  wagons,  loaded  with  these 
arms,  as  far  as  Staunton.  We  were  all  about  the 
same  size,  and  with  one  exception  members  of  the 
same  class.  In  the  first  battle  of  Manassas  four  of 
the  five  present — Charles  Bell,  William  Wilson,  Wil 
liam  Paxton  and  Benjamin  Bradley — were  killed, 
and  William  Anderson,  now  Attorney-General  of 
Virginia,  was  maimed  for  life. 

There  was  great  opposition  on  the  part  of  the 
friends  of  the  students  to  their  going  into  the  ser 
vice,  at  any  rate  in  one  body,  but  they  grew  more 
and  more  impatient  to  be  ordered  out,  and  felt 
decidedly  offended  at  the  delay. 

Finally,  in  June,  the  long-hoped-for  orders  came. 
The  town  was  filled  with  people  from  far  and  near, 
and  every  one  present,  old  and  young,  white  and 
black,  not  only  shed  tears,  but  actually  sobbed.  My 
father  had  positively  forbidden  my  going,  as  his 
other  three  sons,  older  than  myself,  were  already  in 
the  field.  After  this  my  time  was  chiefly  occupied 
in  drilling  militia  in  different  parts  of  the  country. 
And  I  am  reminded  to  this  day  by  my  friends  the 
daughters  of  General  Pendleton  of  my  apprehen 
sions  "lest  the  war  should  be  over  before  I  should 
get  a  trip." 


35      4 
—     X 


CHAPTER  II 

ENTERING  THE  SERVICE MY  FIRST  BATTLE BATTLE 

OF    KERNSTOWN 

JACKSON'S  first  engagement  took  place  at  Haines- 
ville,  near  Martinsburg,  on  July  2,  one  of  the  Rock- 
bridge  Artillery  guns  firing  the  first  hostile  cannon- 
shot  fired  in  the  Valley  of  Virginia.  This  gun  is 
now  in  the  possession  of  the  Virginia  Military  In 
stitute,  and  my  brother  David  fired  the  shot.  Be 
fore  we  knew  that  Jackson  was  out  of  the  Valley, 
news  came  of  the  battle  of  First  Manassas,  in  which 
General  Bee  conferred  upon  him  and  his  brigade 
the  soubriquet  of  "Stonewall,"  and  by  so  doing 
likened  himself  to  "Homer,  who  immortalized  the 
victory  won  by  Achilles." 

In  this  battle  the  Rockbridge  Artillery  did  splen 
did  execution  without  losing  a  man,  while  the  in 
fantry  in  their  rear,  and  for  their  support,  suffered 
dreadfully.  The  College  company  alone  (now  Com 
pany  I  of  the  Fourth  Virginia  Regiment)  lost  seven 
killed  and  many  wounded. 

In  August  it  was  reported  that  a  force  of  Federal 
cavalry  was  near  the  White  Sulphur  Springs,  on 
their  way  to  Lexington.  Numbers  of  men  from  the 
hills  and  mountains  around  gathered  at  Colliers- 
town,  a  straggling  village  in  the  western  portion  of 

25 


26       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

the  county,  and  I  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  night 
drilling  them  in  the  town-hall,  getting  news  from 
time  to  time  from  the  pickets  in  the  mountain-pass. 
The  prospect  of  meeting  so  formidable  a  band  had 
doubtless  kept  the  Federals  from  even  contemplat 
ing  such  an  expedition. 

The  winter  passed  drearily  along,  the  armies  in 
all  directions  having  only  mud  to  contend  with. 

Since  my  failure  to  leave  with  the  College  com 
pany  it  had  been  my  intention  to  join  it  the  first 
opportunity;  but,  hearing  it  would  be  disbanded  in 
the  spring,  I  enlisted  in  the  Rockbridge  Artillery 
attached  to  the  Stonewall  Brigade,  and  with  about 
fifty  other  recruits  left  Lexington  March  10,  1862, 
to  join  Jackson,  then  about  thirty  miles  south  of 
Winchester.  Some  of  us  traveled  on  horseback, 
and  some  in  farm-wagons  secured  for  the  purpose. 
We  did  not  create  the  sensation  we  had  anticipated, 
either  on  leaving  Lexington  or  along  the  road ;  still 
we  had  plenty  of  fun.  I  remember  one  of  the  party 
—a  fellow  with  a  very  large  chin,  as  well  as  cheek- 
riding  up  close  to  a  house  by  the  roadside  in  the 
door  of  which  stood  a  woman  with  a  number  of 
children  around  her,  and,  taking  off  his  hat,  said, 
"God  bless  you,  madam!  May  you  raise  many  for 
the  Southern  Confederacy." 

We  spent  Saturday  afternoon  and  night  in  Staun- 
ton,  and  were  quartered  in  a  hotel  kept  by  a  sour- 
looking  old  Frenchman.  We  were  given  an  abom 
inable  supper,  the  hash  especially  being  a  most  mys- 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON 

terious-looking  dish.  After  retiring  to  our  blankets 
on  the  floor,  I  heard  two  of  the  party,  who  had  par 
taken  of  some  of  Bumgardner's  mountain  dew,  dis 
cussing  the  situation  generally,  and,  among  other 
things,  surmising  as  to  the  ingredients  of  the  sup 
per's  hash,  when  Winn  said,  "Bob,  I  analyzed  that 
hash.  It  was  made  of  buttermilk,  dried  apple,  dam 
sons  and  wool !" 

The  following  day,  Sunday,  was  clear  and  beau 
tiful.  We  had  about  seventy  miles  to  travel  along 
the  Valley  turnpike.  In  passing  a  stately  residence, 
on  the  porch  of  which  the  family  had  assembled, 
one  of  our  party  raised  his  hat  in  salutation.  Not 
a  member  of  the  family  took  the  least  notice  of  the 
civility ;  but  a  negro  girl,  who  was  sweeping  off  the 
pavement  in  front,  flourished  her  broom  around  her 
head  most  enthusiastically,  which  raised  a  general 
shout. 

We  arrived  at  Camp  Buchanan,  a  few  miles  be 
low  Mount  Jackson,  on  Monday  afternoon.  I  then, 
for  the  first  time  since  April,  1861,  saw  my  brother 
John.  How  tough  and  brown  he  looked !  He  had 
been  transferred  to  the  Rockbridge  Artillery 
shortly  before  the  first  battle  of  Manassas,  and  with 
my  brother  David  belonged  to  a  mess  of  as  interest 
ing  young  men  as  I  ever  knew.  Some  of  them  I 
have  not  seen  for  more  than  forty  years.  Mention 
ing  their  names  may  serve  to  recall  incidents  con 
nected  with  them :  My  two  brothers,  both  graduates 
of  Washington  College;  Berkeley  Minor,  a  student 


28       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

of  the  University  of  Virginia,  a  perfect  bookworm ; 
Alex.  Boteler,  student  of  the  University  of  Vir 
ginia,  son  of  Hon.  Alex.  Boteler,  of  West  Virginia, 
and  his  two  cousins,  Henry  and  Charles  Boteler,  of 
Shepherdstown,  West  Virginia;  Thompson  and 
Magruder  Maury,  both  clergymen  after  the  war; 
Joe  Shaner,  of  Lexington,  Virginia,  as  kind  a  friend 
as  I  ever  had,  and  who  carried  my  blanket  for  me 
on  his  off -horse  at  least  one  thousand  miles;  John 
M.  Gregory,  of  Charles  City  County,  an  A.  M.  of 
the  University  of  Virginia.  How  distinctly  I  recall 
his  large,  well-developed  head,  fair  skin  and  clear 
blue  eyes ;  and  his  voice  is  as  familiar  to  me  as  if  I 
had  heard  it  yesterday.  Then  the  brothers,  Walter 
and  Joe  Packard,  of  the  neighborhood  of  Alexan 
dria,  Virginia,  sons  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Packard,  of 
the  Theological  Seminary,  and  both  graduates  of 
colleges;  Frank  Preston,  of  Lexington,  graduate  of 
Washington  College,  who  died  soon  after  the  war 
while  professor  of  Greek  at  William  and  Mary  Col 
lege,  a  whole-souled  and  most  companionable  fel 
low;  William  Boiling,  of  Fauquier  County,  student 
of  the  University  of  Virginia;  Frank  Singleton,  of 
Kentucky,  student  of  the  University  of  Virginia, 
whom  William  Williamson,  another  member  of  the 
mess  and  a  graduate  of  Washington  College,  pro 
nounced  "always  a  gentleman."  Williamson  was 
quite  deaf,  and  Singleton  always,  in  the  gentlest 
and  most  patient  way,  would  repeat  for  his  benefit 
anything  he  failed  to  hear.  Last,  and  most  interest- 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       29 

ing  of  all,  was  George  Bedinger,  of  Sheperdstown, 
a  student  of  the  University  of  Virginia. 

There  were  men  in  the  company  from  almost 
every  State  in  the  South,  and  several  from  North 
ern  States.  Among  the  latter  were  tw^o  sons  of 
Commodore  Porter,  of  the  United  States  Navy, 
one  of  whom  went  by  the  name  of  " Porter-he," 
from  his  having  gone  with  Sergeant  Paxton  to  visit 
some  young  ladies,  and,  on  their  return,  being  asked 
how  they  had  enjoyed  their  visit,  the  sergeant  said, 
"Oh,  splendidly !  and  Porter,  he  were  very  much 
elated." 

Soon  after  my  arrival  supper  was  ready,  and  I 
joined  the  mess  in  my  first  meal  in  camp,  and  was 
astonished  to  see  how  they  relished  fat  bacon,  "flap 
jacks"  and  strong  black  coffee  in  big  tin  cups.  The 
company  was  abundantly  supplied  with  first-rate 
tents,  many  of  them  captured  from  the  enemy,  and 
everybody  seemed  to  be  perfectly  at  home  and 
happy. 

I  bunked  with  my  brother  John,  but  there  was  no 
sleep  for  me  that  first  night.  There  were  just 
enough  cornstalks  under  me  for  each  to  be  dis 
tinctly  felt,  and  the  ground  between  was  exceed 
ingly  cold.  We  remained  in  this  camp  until  the  fol 
lowing  Friday,  when  orders  came  to  move. 

We  first  marched  about  three  miles  south,  or  up 
the  Valley,  then  countermarched,  going  about  twenty 
miles,  and  on  Sunday,  March  23rd,  twelve  miles 
farther,  which  brought  us,  I  thought,  and  it  seemed 


30       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

to  be  the  general  impression,  in  rather  close  prox 
imity  to  the  enemy.  There  having  been  only  a  few 
skirmishes  since  Manassas  in  July,  1861,  none  of  us 
dreamed  of  a  battle ;  but  very  soon  a  cannon  boomed 
two  or  three  miles  ahead,  then  another  and  another. 
The  boys  said,  "That's  Chew's  battery,  under 
Ashby." 

Pretty  soon  Chew's  battery  was  answered,  and 
for  the  first  time  I  saw  and  heard  a  shell  burst,  high 
in  the  air,  leaving  a  little  cloud  of  white  smoke.  On 
we  moved,  halting  frequently,  as  the  troops  were 
being  deployed  in  line  of  battle.  Our  battery  turned 
out  of  the  pike  and  we  had  not  heard  a  shot  for 
half  an  hour.  In  front  of  us  lay  a  stretch  of  half 
a  mile  of  level,  open  ground  and  beyond  this  a 
wooded  hill,  for  which  we  seemed  to  be  making. 
When  half-way  across  the  low  ground,  as  I  was 
walking  by  my  gun,  talking  to  a  comrade  at  my  side, 
a  shell  burst  with  a  terrible  crash — it  seemed  to  me 
almost  on  my  head.  The  concussion  knocked  me  to 
my  knees,  and  my  comrade  sprawling  on  the  ground. 
We  then  began  to  feel  that  we  were  "going  in,"  and 
a  most  weakening  effect  it  had  on  the  stomach. 

I  recall  distinctly  the  sad,  solemn  feeling  pro 
duced  by  seeing  the  ambulances  brought  up  to  the 
front;  it  was  entirely  too  suggestive.  Soon  we 
reached  the  woods  and  were  ascending  the  hill  along 
a  little  ravine,  for  a  position,  when  a  solid  shot 
broke  the  trunnions  of  one  of  the  guns,  thus  dis 
abling  it;  then  another,  nearly  spent,  struck  a  tree 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON       31 

about  half-way  up  and  fell  nearby.  Just  after  we 
got  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  within  fifty  or  one 
hundred  yards  of  the  position  we  were  to  take,  a 
shell  struck  the  off- wheel  horse  of  my  gun  and 
burst.  The  horse  was  torn  to  pieces,  and  the  pieces 
thrown  in  every  direction.  The  saddle-horse  was 
also  horribly  mangled.  The  leg  of  the  driver,  W.  H. 
Byrd,  was  shot  off,  as  was  also  the  foot  of  O.  P. 
Gray,  who  was  walking  along-side.  Both  men  died 
that  night.  A  white  horse  working  in  the  lead  looked 
more  like  a  bay  after  the  catastrophe.  To  one  who 
had  been  in  the  army  but  five  days,  and  but  five 
minutes  under  fire,  this  seemed  an  awful  introduc 
tion. 

The  other  guns  of  the  battery  had  gotten  into 
position  before  we  had  cleared  up  the  wreck  of  our 
team  and  put  in  two  new  horses.  As  soon  as  this 
was  done  \ve  pulled  up  to  where  the  other  guns 
were  firing,  and  passed  by  a  member  of  the  com 
pany,  John  Wallace,  horribly  torn  by  a  shell,  but 
still  alive.  On  reaching  the  crest  of  the  hill,  which 
was  clear  open  ground,  we  got  a  full  view  of  the 
enemy's  batteries  on  the  hills  opposite. 

In  the  woods  on  our  left,  and  a  few  hundred 
yards  distant,  the  infantry  were  hotly  engaged,  the 
small  arms  keeping  up  an  incessant  roar.  Neither 
side  seemed  to  move  an  inch.  From  about  the  Fed 
eral  batteries  in  front  of  us  came  regiment  after 
regiment  of  their  infantry,  marching  in  line  of  bat 
tle,  with  the  Stars  and  Stripes  flying,  to  join  in  the 


32       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

attack  on  our  infantry,  who  were  not  being  rein 
forced  at  all,  as  everything  but  the  Fifth  Virginia 
had  been  engaged  from  the  first.  We  did  some  fine 
shooting  at  their  advancing  infantry,  their  batteries 
having  almost  quit  firing.  The  battle  had  now  con 
tinued  for  two  or  three  hours.  Now,  for  the  first 
time,  I  heard  the  keen  whistle  of  the  Minie-ball.  Our 
infantry  was  being  driven  back  and  the  Federals 
were  in  close  pursuit. 

Seeing  the  day  was  lost,  we  were  ordered  to  lim 
ber  up  and  leave.  Just  then  a  large  force  of  the 
enemy  came  in  sight  in  the  woods  on  our  left.  The 
gunner  of  the  piece  nearest  them  had  his  piece  loaded 
with  canister,  and  fired  the  charge  into  their  ranks 
as  they  crowded  through  a  narrow  opening  in  a 
stone  fence.  One  of  the  guns  of  the  battery,  having 
several  of  its  horses  killed,  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  enemy.  About  this  time  the  Fifth  Virginia 
Regiment,  which,  through  some  misunderstanding 
of  orders,  had  not  been  engaged,  arrived  on  the 
crest  of  the  hill,  and  I  heard  General  Jackson,  as  he 
rode  to  their  front,  direct  the  men  to  form  in  line 
and  check  the  enemy.  But  everything  else  was  now 
in  full  retreat,  with  Minie-balls  to  remind  us  that  it 
would  not  do  to  stop.  Running  back  through  the 
woods,  I  passed  close  by  John  Wallace  as  he  lay 
dying.  Night  came  on  opportunely  and  put  an  end 
to  the  pursuit,  and  to  the  taking  of  prisoners,  though 
we  lost  several  hundred  men.  I  afterward  heard 
Capt.  George  Junkin,  nephew  of  the  Northern  col- 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       33 

lege  president,  and  General  Jackson's  adjutant,  say 
that  he  had  the  exact  number  of  men  engaged  on 
our  side,  and  that  there  were  2,700  in  the  battle.  The 
enemy's  official  report  gave  their  number  as  8,000. 

It  was  dusk  when  I  again  found  myself  on  the 
turnpike,  and  I  followed  the  few  indistinct  moving 
figures  in  the  direction  of  safety.  I  stopped  for  a 
few  minutes  near  a  camp-fire,  in  a  piece  of  woods, 
where  our  infantry  halted,  and  I  remember  hearing 
the  colored  cook  of  one  of  their  messes  asking  in 
piteous  tones,  over  and  over  again,  "Marse  George, 
where's  Marse  Charles?"  No  answer  was  made, 
but  the  sorrowful  face  of  the  one  interrogated  was 
response  enough.  I  got  back  to  the  village  of  New- 
town,  about  three  miles  from  the  battlefield,  where 
I  joined  several  members  of  the  battery  at  a  hos 
pitable  house.  Here  we  were  kindly  supplied  with 
food,  and,  as  the  house  was  full,  were  allowed  to 
sleep  soundly  on  the  floor.  This  battle  was  known 
as  Kernstown. 

The  Confederate  loss  was :  80  killed,  375  wound 
ed,  263  captured;  total,  718. 

Federal  loss:  118  killed,  450  wounded,  22  miss 
ing;  total,  590. 

General  Jackson  was  greatly  disturbed  at  being 
defeated  in  this  battle  (claiming  that  the  retreat  was 
premature),  and  not  until  it  was  fully  demonstrated 
by  brigade  and  regimental  officers  that  the  infantry 
yielded  only  when  their  ammunition  was  exhausted 
did  he  seem  to  be  reconciled.  The  effects  of  it,  how- 


34       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

ever,  were  far-reaching,  as  some  40,000  Federals 
in  armies  for  the  protection  of  Washington  were 
prevented  from  going  to  join  McClellan's  advance 
on  Richmond. 

In  regard  to  this  battle  Gen.  Jackson  wrote  to 
his  wife  as  follows : 

"You  appear  to  be  much  concerned  at  my  attack 
ing  on  Sunday.  I  am  greatly  concerned  too  .  .  . 
and  I  hope  and  pray  to  our  Heavenly  Father  that  I 
may  never  again  be  circumstanced  as  on  that  day." 

In  this  sentiment  many  of  us  fully  concurred. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   RETREAT CEDAR   CREEK GENERAL   ASHBY 

SKIRMISHES — M'GAHEYSVILLE 

THE  next  dawn  brought  a  raw,  gloomy  Monday. 
We  found  the  battery  a  mile  or  two  from  the  battle 
field,  where  we  lay  all  day,  thinking,  of  course,  the 
enemy  would  follow  up  their  victory ;  but  this  they 
showed  no  inclination  to  do.  On  Tuesday  we  moved 
a  mile  or  more  toward  our  old  camp — Buchanan. 
On  Wednesday,  about  noon,  we  reached  Cedar 
Creek,  the  scene  of  one  of  General  Early 's  battles 
more  than  two  years  afterward,  1864.  The  creek 
ran  through  a  narrow  defile,  and,  the  bridge  having 
been  burned,  we  crossed  in  single  file,  on  the  charred 
timbers,  still  clinging  together  and  resting  on  the 
surface  of  the  water.  Just  here,  for  the  first  time 
since  Kernstown,  the  Federal  cavalry  attacked  the 
rear  of  our  column,  and  the  news  and  commotion 
reached  my  part  of  the  line  when  I  was  half-across 
the  stream.  The  man  immediately  in  front  of  me, 
being  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to  follow  the  file  on 
the  bridge-planks,  jumped  frantically  into  the 
stream.  He  was  fished  out  of  the  cold  waters, 
shoulder  deep,  on  the  bayonets  of  the  infantry  on 
the  timbers. 

35 


36      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

We  found  our  wagons  awaiting  us  on  top  of  a 
high  hill  beyond,  and  went  into  camp  about  noon, 
to  get  up  a  whole  meal,  to  which  we  thought  we 
could  do  full  justice.  But,  alas!  alas!  About  the 
time  the  beans  were  done,  and  each  had  his  share 
in  a  tin  plate  or  cup,  "bang!"  went  a  cannon  on  the 
opposite  hill,  and  the  shell  screamed  over  our  heads. 
My  gun  being  a  rifled  piece,  was  ordered  to  hitch  up 
and  go  into  position,  and  my  appetite  was  gone. 
Turning  to  my  brother,  I  said,  "John,  I  don't  want 
these  beans !"  My  friend  Bedinger  gave  me  a  home 
made  biscuit,  which  I  ate  as  I  followed  the  gun.  We 
moved  out  and  across  the  road  with  two  guns,  and 
took  position  one  hundred  yards  nearer  the  enemy. 
The  guns  were  unlimbered  and  loaded  just  in  time 
to  fire  at  a  column  of  the  enemy's  cavalry  which  had 
started  down  the  opposite- hill  at  a  gallop.  The  guns 
were  discharged  simultaneously,  and  the  two  shells 
burst  in  the  head  of  their  column,  and  by  the  time 
the  smoke  and  dust  had  cleared  up  that  squadron  of 
cavalry  was  invisible.  This  check  gave  the  wagons 
and  troops  time  to  get  in  marching  order,  and  after 
firing  a  few  more  rounds  we  followed. 

As  we  drove  into  the  road  again,  I  saw  several 
infantrymen  lying,  horribly  torn  by  shells,  and  the 
clothes  of  one  of  them  on  fire.  I  afterward  heard 
amusing  accounts  of  the  exit  of  the  rest  of  the  com 
pany  from  this  camp.  Quartermaster  "John  D." 
had  his  teams  at  a  full  trot,  with  the  steam  flying 
from  the  still  hot  camp-kettles  as  they  rocked  to 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       37 

and  fro  on  the  tops  of  the  wagons.  In  a  day  or  two 
we  were  again  in  Camp  Buchanan,  and  pitched  our 
tents  on  their  old  sites  and  kindled  our  fires  with 
the  old  embers.  Here  more  additions  were  made  to 
the  company,  among  them  R.  E.  Lee,  Jr.,  son  of 
the  General;  Arthur  Robinson,  of  Baltimore,  and 
Edward  Hyde,  of  Alexandria.  After  a  few  nights' 
rest  and  one  or  two  square  meals  everything  was  as 
gay  as  ever. 

An  hour  or  two  each  day  was  spent  in  going 
through  the  artillery  manual.  Every  morning  we 
heard  the  strong,  clear  voice  of  an  infantry  officer 
drilling  his  men,  which  I  learned  was  the  voice  of 
our  cousin,  James  Allen,  colonel  of  the  Second  Vir 
ginia  Regiment.  He  was  at  least  half  a  mile  dis 
tant.  About  the  fourth  or  fifth  day  after  our  re 
turn  to  camp  we  were  ordered  out  to  meet  the 
enemy,  and  moved  a  few  miles  in  their  direction, 
but  were  relieved  on  learning  that  it  was  a  false 
alarm,  and  counter-marched  to  the  same  camp. 
When  we  went  to  the  wagons  for  our  cooking  uten 
sils,  etc.,  my  heavy  double  blanket,  brought  from 
home,  had  been  lost,  which  made  the  ground  seem 
colder  and  the  stalks  rougher.  With  me  the  nights, 
until  bedtime,  were  pleasant  enough.  There  were 
some  good  voices  in  the  company,  two  or  three  in 
our  mess;  Bedinger  and  his  cousin,  Alec  Boteler, 
both  sang  well,  but  Boteler  stammered  badly  when 
talking,  and  Bedinger  kept  him  in  a  rage  half  the 
time  mocking  him,  frequently  advising  him  to  go 


38      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

back  home  and  learn  to  talk.  Still  they  were  bed 
fellows  and  devoted  friends.  I  feel  as  if  I  could 
hear  Bedinger  now,  as  he  shifted  around  the  fire,  to 
keep  out  of  the  smoke,  singing: 

"Though  the  world  may  call  me  gay,  yet  my  feelings  I  smother, 
Oh!  thou  hast  been  the  cause  of  this  anguish — my  mother." 

A  thing  that  I  was  very  slow  to  learn  was  to  sit 
on  the  ground  with  any  comfort;  and  a  log  or  a 
fence,  for  a  few  minutes'  rest,  was  a  thing  of  joy. 
Then  the  smoke  from  the  camp-fires  almost  suffo 
cated  me,  and  always  seemed  to  blow  toward  me, 
though  each  of  the  others  thought  himself  the  fav 
ored  one.  But  the  worst  part  of  the  twenty- four 
hours  was  from  bedtime  till  daylight,  half-awake 
and  half -asleep  and  half -frozen.  I  was,  since 
Kernstown,  having  that  battle  all  over  and  over 
again. 

I  noticed  a  thing  in  this  camp  (it  being  the  first 
winter  of  the  war),  in  which  experience  and  neces 
sity  afterward  made  a  great  change.  The  soldiers, 
not  being  accustomed  to  fires  out-of-doors,  fre 
quently  had  either  the  tails  of  their  overcoats 
burned  off,  or  big  holes  or  scorched  places  in  their 
pantaloons. 

Since  Jackson's  late  reverse,  more  troops  being 
needed,  the  militia  had  been  ordered  out,  and  the 
contingent  from  Rockbridge  County  was  encamped 
a  few  miles  in  rear  of  us.  I  got  permission  from 
our  captain  to  go  to  see  them  and  hear  the  news  from 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       39 

home.  Among  them  were  several  merchants  of 
Lexington,  and  steady  old  farmers  from  the  county. 
They  were  much  impressed  with  the  accounts  of  the 
battle  and  spoke  very  solemnly  of  war.  I  had  rid 
den  Sergeant  Baxter  McCorkle's  horse,  and,  on  my 
return,  soon  after  passing  through  Mt.  Jackson, 
overtook  Bedinger  and  Charley  Boteler,  with  a  can 
teen  of  French  brandy  which  a  surgeon- friend  in 
town  had  given  them.  As  a  return  for  a  drink,  I 
asked  Bedinger  to  ride  a  piece  on  my  horse,  which, 
for  some  time,  he  declined  to  dp,  but  finally  said, 
"All  right;  get  down."  He  had  scarcely  gotten  into 
the  saddle  before  he  plied  the  horse  with  hat  and 
heels,  and  away  he  went  down  the  road  at  full  speed 
and  disappeared  in  the  distance. 

This  was  more  kindness  than  I  had  intended,  but 
it  afforded  a  good  laugh.  Boteler  and  the  brandy 
followed  the  horseman,  and  I  turned  in  and  spent 
the  night  with  the  College  company,  quartered  close 
by  as  a  guard  to  General  Jackson's  headquarters.  I 
got  back  to  camp  the  next  afternoon,  Sunday. 
McCorkle  had  just  found  his  horse,  still  saddled  and 
bridled,  grazing  in  a  wheat-field. 

From  Camp  Buchanan  we  fell  back  to  Rude's 
Hill,  four  miles  above  Mt.  Jackson  and  overlooking 
the  Shenandoah  River.  About  once  in  three  days 
our  two  Parrott  guns,  to  one  of  which  I  belonged, 
were  sent  down  to  General  Ashby,  some  ten  miles, 
for  picket  service  to  supply  the  place  of  Chew's  bat 
tery,  which  exhausted  its  ammunition  in  daily  skirm- 


40      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

ishes  with  the  enemy.  Ashby  himself  was  always 
there;  and  an  agreeable,  unpretending  gentleman  he 
was.  His  complexion  was  very  dark  and  his  hair 
and  beard  as  black  as  a  raven.  He  was  always  in 
motion,  mounted  on  one  of  his  three  superb  stal 
lions,  one  of  which  was  coal-black,  another  a  chest 
nut  sorrel,  and  the  third  white.  On  our  first  trip 
we  had  a  lively  cannonade,  and  the  white  horse  in 
our  team,  still  bearing  the  stains  of  blood  from  the 
Kernstown  carnage,  reared  and  plunged  furiously 
during  the  firing.  The  Federal  skirmish  line  was 
about  a  mile  off,  near  the  edge  of  some  woods,  and 
at  that  distance  looked  very  harmless ;  but  when  I 
looked  at  them  through  General  Ashby's  field-glass 
it  made  them  look  so  large,  and  brought  them  so 
close,  that  it  startled  me.  There  was  a  fence  inter 
vening,  and,  on  giving  the  glass  a  slight  jar,  I  im 
agined  they  jumped  the  fence;  I  preferred  looking 
at  them  with  the  naked  eye.  Bob  Lee  volunteered 
to  go  with  us  another  day  (he  belonged  to  another 
detachment).  He  seemed  to  enjoy  the  sport  much. 
He  had  not  been  at  Kernstown,  and  I  thought  if  he 
had,  possibly  he  would  have  felt  more  as  did  I  and 
the  white  horse. 

On  our  way  down  on  another  expedition,  hear 
ing  the  enemy  were  driving  in  our  pickets,  and  that 
we  would  probably  have  some  lively  work  and  run 
ning,  I  left  my  blanket — a  blue  one  I  had  recently 
borrowed — at  the  house  of  a  mulatto  woman  by  the 
roadside,  and  told  her  I  would  call  for  it  as  we  came 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON       41 

back.  We  returned  soon,  but  the  woman,  learning 
that  a  battle  was  impending,  had  locked  up  and  gone. 
This  blanket  was  my  only  wrap  during  the  chilly 
nights,  so  I  must  have  it.  The  guns  had  gone  on. 
As  I  stood  deliberating  as  to  what  I  should  do, 
General  Ashby  came  riding  by.  I  told  him  my 
predicament  and  asked,  "Shall  I  get  in  and  get  it?" 
He  said,  "Yes,  certainly."  With  the  help  of  an  axe 
I  soon  had  a  \vindow-sash  out  and  my  blanket  in 
my  possession.  From  these  frequent  picket  excur 
sions  I  got  the  name  of  "Veteran."  My  friend  Boll- 
ing  generously  offered  to  go  as  my  substitute  on  one 
expedition,  but  the  Captain,  seeing  our  two  detach 
ments  were  being  overworked,  had  all  relieved  and 
sent  other  detachments  with  our  guns. 

From  Rude's  Hill  about  fifty  of  us  recruits  were 
detailed  to  go  to  Harrisonburg — Lieutenant  Gra 
ham  in  command — to  guard  prisoners.  The  prison 
ers  were  quartered  in  the  courthouse.  Among  them 
\vere  a  number  of  Dunkards  from  the  surrounding 
country,  whose  creed  was  "No  fight."  I  was  ap 
pointed  corporal,  the  only  promotion  I  was  honored 
with  during  the  war,  and  that  only  for  the  detailed 
service.  Here  we  spent  a  week  or  ten  days,  pleas 
antly,  with  good  fare  and  quarters.  Things  con 
tinued  quiet  at  the  front  during  this  time. 

The  enemy  again  advanced,  and  quite  a  lively 
calvary  skirmish  was  had  from  Mt.  Jackson  to  the 
bridge  across  the  Shenandoah.  The  enemy  tried 
hard  to  keep  our  men  from  burning  this  bridge,  and 


42       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

in  the  fray  Ashby's  white  horse  was  mortally 
wounded  under  him  and  his  own  life  saved  by  the 
daring  interposition  of  one  of  his  men.  His  horse 
lived  to  carry  him  out,  but  fell  dead  as  soon  as  he 
had  accomplished  it ;  and,  after  his  death,  every  hair 
was  pulled  from  his  tail  by  Ashby's  men  as  memen 
toes  of  the  occasion. 

Jackson  fell  back  slowly,  and,  on  reaching  Har- 
risonburg,  to  our  dismay,  the  head  of  the  column 
filed  to  the  left,  on  the  road  leading  toward  the  Blue 
Ridge,  thus  disclosing  the  fact  that  the  Valley  was 
to  be  given  up  a  prey  to  the  enemy.  Gloom  was  seen 
on  every  face  at  feeling  that  our  homes  were  for 
saken.  We  carried  our  prisoners  along,  and  a  mis 
erable-looking  set  the  poor  Dunkards  were,  with 
their  long  beards  and  solemn  eyes.  A  little  fun, 
though,  we  would  have.  Every  mile  or  so,  and  at 
every  cross-road,  a  sign-post  was  stuck  up,  "Keezle- 
town  Road,  2  miles,"  and  of  every  countryman  or 
darky  along  the  way  some  wag  would  inquire  the 
distance  to  Keezletown,  and  if  he  thought  we  could 
get  there  before  night. 

By  dawn  next  morning  we  were  again  on  the 
march.  I  have  recalled  this  early  dawn  oftener,  I 
am  sure,  than  any  other  of  my  whole  life.  Our 
road  lay  along  the  edge  of  a  forest,  occasionally 
winding  in  and  out  of  it.  At  the  more  open  places 
we  could  see  the  Blue  Ridge  in  the  near  distance. 
During  the  night  a  slight  shower  had  moistened  the 
earth  and  leaves,  so  that  our  steps,  and  even  the 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON       43 

wheels  of  the  artillery,  were  scarcely  heard.  Here 
and  there  on  the  roadside  was  the  home  of  a  sol 
dier,  in  which  he  had  just  passed  probably  his  last 
night.  I  distinctly  recall  now  the  sobs  of  a  wife 
or  mother  as  she  moved  about,  preparing  a  meal  for 
her  husband  or  son,  and  the  thoughts  it  gave  rise 
to.  Very  possibly  it  helped  also  to  remind  us  that 
we  had  left  camp  that  morning  without  any  break 
fast  ourselves.  At  any  rate,  I  told  my  friend,  Joe 
McCalpin,  who  was  quite  too  modest  a  man  to  for 
age,  and  face  a  strange  family  in  quest  of  a  meal, 
that  if  he  would  put  himself  in  my  charge  I  would 
promise  him  a  good  breakfast. 

In  a  few  miles  we  reached  McGaheysville,  a  quiet, 
comfortable  little  village  away  off  in  the  hills.  The 
sun  was  now  up,  and  now  was  the  time  and  this  the 
place.  A  short  distance  up  a  cross-street  I  saw  a 
motherly-looking  old  lady  standing  at  her  gate, 
watching  the  passing  troops.  Said  I,  "Mac,  there's 
the  place."  We  approached,  and  I  announced  the 
object  of  our  visit.  She  said,  "Breakfast  is  just 
ready.  Walk  in,  sit  down  at  the  table,  and  make 
yourselves  at  home.  A  breakfast  it  was — fresh  eggs, 
white  light  biscuit  and  other  toothsome  articles.  A 
man  of  about  forty-five  years — a  boarder — re 
marked,  at  the  table,  "The  war  has  not  cost  me  the 
loss  of  an  hour's  sleep."  The  good  mother  said, 
with  a  quavering  tone  of  voice,  "/  have  sons  in  the 
army." 


CHAPTER  IV 

SWIFT  RUN  GAP REORGANIZATION  OF  THE  BATTERY 

-  WADING      IN      THE      MUD CROSSING      AND 

RECROSSING     THE      BLUE     RIDGE BATTLE     OF 

MCDOWELL RETURN    TO   THE  VALLEY 

WE  reached  the  south  branch  of  the  Shenandoah 
about  noon,  crossed  on  a  bridge,  and  that  night 
camped  in  Swift  Run  Gap.  Our  detail  was  sep 
arated  from  the  battery  and  I,  therefore,  not  with 
my  own  mess.  We  occupied  a  low,  flat  piece  of 
ground  with  a  creek  alongside  and  about  forty 
yards  from  the  tent  in  which  I  stayed.  The  priso 
ners  were  in  a  barn  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant. 
Here  we  had  most  wretched  weather,  real  winter 
again,  rain  or  snow  almost  all  the  time.  One  night 
about  midnight  I  was  awakened  by  hearing  a  horse 
splashing  through  water  just  outside  of  the  tent  and 
a  voice  calling  to  the  inmates  to  get  out  of  the  flood. 
The  horse  was  backed  half  into  the  tent-door,  and, 
one  by  one,  my  companions  left  me.  My  bunk  was 
on  a  little  rise.  I  put  my  hand  out — into  the  water. 
I  determined,  however,  to  stay  as  long  as  I  could, 
and  was  soon  asleep,  which  showed  that  I  was  be 
coming  a  soldier — in  one  important  respect  at  least. 
By  daylight,  the  flood  having  subsided,  I  was  able 
to  reach  a  fence  and  "coon  it"  to  a  hill  above. 

44 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       45 

While  in  this  camp,  as  the  time  had  expired  for 
which  most  of  the  soldiers  enlisted,  the  army  was 
reorganized.  The  battery  having  more  men  than 
was  a  quota  for  one  company,  the  last  recruits  were 
required  to  enlist  in  other  companies  or  to  exchange 
with  older  members  who  wished  to  change.  Thus 
some  of  our  most  interesting  members  left  us,  to 
join  other  commands,  and  the  number  of  our  guns 
was  reduced  from  eight  to  six.  The  prisoners  were 
now  disposed  of,  and  I  returned  to  my  old  mess. 
After  spending  about  ten  days  in  this  wretched 
camp  we  marched  again,  following  the  Shenandoah 
River  along  the  base  of  the  mountains  toward  Port 
Republic.  After  such  weather,  the  dirt-roads  were, 
of  course,  almost  bottomless.  The  wagons  monopo 
lized  them  during  the  day,  so  we  had  to  wait  until 
they  were  out  of  the  way.  When  they  halted  for 
the  night,  we  took  the  mud.  The  depth  of  it  was 
nearly  up  to  my  knees  and  frequently  over  them. 
The  bushes  on  the  sides  of  the  road,  and  the  dark 
ness,  compelled  us  to  wade  right  in.  Here  was 
swearing  and  growling,  "Flanders  and  Flounders." 
An  infantryman  was  cursing  Stonewall  most  elo 
quently,  when  the  old  Christian  rode  by,  and,  hear 
ing  him,  said,  in  his  short  way,  "It's  for  your  own 
good,  sir!"  The  wagons  could  make  only  six  miles 
during  the  day,  and,  by  traveling  this  distance  after 
night,  we  reached  them  about  nine  o'clock.  We 
would  then  build  fires,  get  our  cooking  utensils,  and 
cook  our  suppers,  and,  by  the  light  of  the  fires,  see 


46      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

our  muddy  condition  and  try  to  dry  off  before  re 
tiring  to  the  ground.  We  engaged  in  this  sort  of 
warfare  for  three  days,  when  we  reached  Port  Re 
public,  eighteen  miles  from  our  starting-point  and 
about  the  same  distance  from  Staunton.  Our  move 
ments,  or  rather  Jackson's,  had  entirely  bewildered 
us  as  to  his  intentions. 

While  we  were  at  Swift  Run,  Swell's  division, 
having  been  brought  from  the  army  around  Rich 
mond,  was  encamped  just  across  the  mountain  op 
posite  us.  We  remained  at  Port  Republic  several 
days.  Our  company  was  convenient  to  a  comfort 
able  farmhouse,  where  hot  apple  turnovers  were 
constantly  on  sale.  Our  hopes  for  remaining  in  the 
Valley  were  again  blasted  when  the  wagons  moved 
out  on  the  Brown's  Gap  road  and  we  followed 
across  the  Blue  Ridge,  making  our  exit  from  the 
pass  a  few  miles  north  of  Mechum's  River,  which 
we  reached  about  noon  of  the  following  day. 

There  had  been  a  good  deal  of  cutting  at  each 
other  among  the  members  of  the  company  who 
hailed  from  different  sides  of  the  Blue  Ridge — 
"Tuckahoes"  and  "Cohees,"  as  they  are  provin- 
cially  called.  "Lit"  Macon,  formerly  sheriff  of 
Albemarle  County,  an  incessant  talker,  had  given 
us  glowing  accounts  of  the  treatment  we  would  re 
ceive  "on  t'other  side."  "Jam  puffs,  jam  puffs!" 
Joe  Shaner  and  I,  having  something  of  a  turn  for 
investigating  the  resources  of  a  new  country,  took 
the  first  opportunity  of  testing  Macon's  promised 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       47 

land.  We  selected  a  fine-looking  house,  and,  ap 
proaching  it,  made  known  our  wants  to  a  young 
lady.  She  left  us  standing  outside  of  the  yard,  we 
supposed  to  cool  off  while  she  made  ready  for  our 
entertainment  in  the  house.  In  this  we  were  mis 
taken  ;  for,  after  a  long  time,  she  returned  and 
handed  us,  through  the  fence,  some  cold  corn-bread 
and  bacon.  This  and  similar  experiences  by  others 
gave  us  ample  means  to  tease  Macon  about  the  grand 
things  we  were  to  see  and  enjoy  "on  t'other  side." 

We  were  now  much  puzzled  as  to  the  meaning 
of  this  "wiring  in  and  wiring  out,"  as  we  had  turned 
to  the  right  on  crossing  the  mountain  and  taken  the 
road  toward  Staunton.  To  our  astonishment  we 
recrossed  the  mountain,  from  the  top  of  which  we 
again  gazed  on  that  grand  old  Valley,  and  felt  that 
our  homes  might  still  be  ours.  A  mile  or  two  from 
the  mountain  lay  the  quiet  little  village  of  Waynes- 
boro,  where  we  arrived  about  noon.  As  I  was  pass 
ing  along  the  main  street,  somewhat  in  advance  of 
the  battery,  Frank  Preston  came  running  out  of  one 
of  the  houses — the  Waddells' — and,  with  his  usual 
take-no-excuse  style,  dragged  me  in  to  face  a  family 
of  the  prettiest  girls  in  Virginia.  I  was  immediately 
taken  to  the  dining-room,  where  were  "jam  puffs" 
sure  enough,  and  the  beautiful  Miss  Nettie  to  di 
vide  my  attention. 

The  next  day  wre  camped  near  Staunton  and  re 
mained  a  day.  Conjecturing  now  as  to  Jackson's 
program  was  wild,  so  we  concluded  to  let  him  have 


48      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

his  own  way.  The  cadets  of  the  Virginia  Military 
Institute,  most  of  whom  were  boys  under  seventeen, 
had,  in  this  emergency,  been  ordered  to  the  field, 
and  joined  the  line  of  march  as  we  passed  through 
Staunton,  and  the  young  ladies  of  that  place  made 
them  the  heroes  of  the  army,  to  the  disgust  of  the 
"Veterans"  of  the  old  Stonewall  Brigade.  Our 
course  was  now  westward,  and  Milroy,  who  was  too 
strong  for  General  Ed.  Johnson  in  the  Alleghanies, 
was  the  object.  About  twenty  miles  west  of  Staun 
ton  was  the  home  of  a  young  lady  friend,  and,  on 
learning  that  our  road  lay  within  four  miles  of  it, 
I  determined  at  least  to  try  to  see  her.  Sergeant 
Clem.  Fishburne,  who  was  related  to  the  family, 
expected  to  go  with  me,  but  at  the  last  moment  gave 
it  up,  so  I  went  alone.  To  my  very  great  disap 
pointment  she  was  not  at  home,  but  her  sisters  en 
tertained  me  nicely  with  music,  etc.,  and  filled  my 
haversack  before  I  left.  Just  before  starting  off  in 
the  afternoon  I  learned  that  cannonading  had  been 
heard  toward  the  front.  When  a  mile  or  two  on 
my  way  a  passing  cavalryman,  a  stranger  to  me, 
kindly  offered  to  carry  my  overcoat,  which  he  did, 
and  left  it  with  the  battery. 

The  battery  had  marched  about  fifteen  miles 
after  I  had  left  it,  so  I  had  to  retrace  my  four  miles, 
then  travel  the  fifteen,  crossing  two  mountains.  I 
must  have  walked  at  least  five  miles  an  hour,  as  I 
reached  the  company  before  sundown.  They  had 
gone  into  camp.  My  brother  John,  and  Frank 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON       49 

Preston,  seeing  me  approach,  came  out  to  meet  me, 
and  told  me  how  excessively  uneasy  they  had  been 
about  me  all  day.  A  battle  had  been  fought  and 
they  had  expected  to  be  called  on  every  moment, 
and,  " Suppose  we  had  gone  in,  and  you  off  forag 
ing!"  How  penitent  I  felt,  and  at  the  same  time 
how  grateful  for  having  two  such  anxious  guar 
dians  !  While  expressing  this  deep  interest  they 
each  kept  an  eye  on  my  full  haversack.  "Well," 
said  I,  "I  have  some  pabulum  here ;  let's  go  to  the 
mess  and  give  them  a  snack."  They  said,  "That 
little  bit  wouldn't  be  a  drop  in  the  bucket  with  all 
that  mess ;  let's  just  go  down  yonder  to  the  branch 
and  have  one  real  good  old-fashioned  repast."  So 
off  we  went  to  the  branch,  and  by  the  time  they  were 
through  congratulating  me  on  getting  back  before 
the  battery  had  "gotten  into  it,"  my  haversack  was 
empty.  The  battle  had  been  fought  by  Johnson's 
division,  the  enemy  whipped  and  put  to  flight.  The 
next  day  we  started  in  pursuit,  passing  through 
McDowell,  a  village  in  Highland  County,  and  near 
this  village  the  fight  had  occurred.  The  ground  was 
too  rough  and  broken  for  the  effective  use  of  artil 
lery,  so  the  work  was  done  by  the  infantry  on  both 
sides.  This  was  the  first  opportunity  that  many  of 
us  had  had  of  seeing  a  battlefield  the  day  after  the 
battle.  The  ghastly  faces  of  the  dead  made  a  sick 
ening  and  lasting  impression ;  but  I  hoped  I  did  not 
look  as  pale  as  did  some  of  the  young  cadets,  who 
proved  gallant  enough  afterward.  We  continued 


50       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

the  pursuit  a  day  or  two  through  that  wild  mount- 
tainous  country,  but  Milroy  stopped  only  once  after 
his  defeat,  for  a  skirmish.  In  a  meadow  and  near 
the  roadside  stood  a  deserted  cabin,  which  had  been 
struck  several  times  during  the  skirmish  by  shells. 
I  went  inside  of  it,  to  see  what  a  shell  could  do. 
Three  had  penetrated  the  outer  wall  and  burst  in 
the  house,  and  I  counted  twenty-seven  holes  made 
through  the  frame  partition  by  the  fragments.  Be 
ing  an  artilleryman,  and  therefore  to  be  exposed  to 
missiles  of  that  kind,  I  concluded  that  my  chances 
for  surviving  the  war  were  extremely  slim. 

While  on  this  expedition  an  amusing  incident 
occurred  in  our  mess.  There  belonged  to  it  quite 
a  character.  He  was  not  considered  a  pretty  boy, 
and  tried  to  get  even  with  the  world  by  taking  good 
care  of  himself.  We  had  halted  one  morning  to 
cook  several  days'  rations,  and  a  large  pile  of  bread 
was  placed  near  the  fire,  of  which  we  were  to  eat 
our  breakfast  and  the  rest  was  to  be  divided  among 
us.  He  came,  we  thought,  too  often  to  the  pile,  and 
helped  himself  bountifully;  he  would  return  to  his 
seat  on  his  blanket,  and  one  or  two  of  us  saw,  or 
thought  we  saw  him  conceal  pieces  of  bread  under 
it.  Nothing  was  said  at  the  time,  but  after  he  had 
gone  away  Boiling,  Packard  and  I  concluded  to 
examine  his  haversack,  which  looked  very  fat.  In 
it  we  found  about  half  a  gallon  of  rye  for  coffee,  a 
hock  of  bacon,  a  number  of  home-made  buttered 
biscuit,  a  hen-egg  and  a  goose-egg,  besides  more 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON       51 

than  his  share  of  camp  rations.  Here  was  our 
chance  to  teach  a  Christian  man  in  an  agreeable  way 
that  he  should  not  appropriate  more  than  his  share 
of  the  rations  without  the  consent  of  the  mess,  so 
we  set  to  and  ate  heartily  of  his  good  stores,  and  in 
their  place  put,  for  ballast,  a  river-jack  that  weighed 
about  two  pounds.  He  carried  the  stone  for  two 
days  before  he  ate  down  to  it,  and,  when  he  did,  was 
mad  enough  to  eat  it.  We  then  told  him  what  we 
had  done  and  why ;  but  thought  he  had  hidden 
enough  under  his  blanket  to  carry  him  through  the 
campaign. 

Before  leaving  the  Valley  we  had  observed  de 
cided  evidences  of  spring;  but  here  it  was  like  mid 
winter — not  a  bud  nor  blade  of  grass  to  be  seen. 
Milroy  was  now  out  of  reach,  so  we  retraced  our 
steps.  On  getting  out  of  the  mountains  we  bore  to 
the  left  of  Staunton  in  the  direction  of  Harrison- 
burg,  twenty-five  miles  northeast  of  the  former. 
After  the  bleak  mountains,  with  their  leafless  trees, 
the  old  Valley  looked  like  Paradise.  The  cherry- 
and  peach-trees  were  loaded  with  bloom,  the  fields 
covered  with  rank  clover,  and  how  our  weary 
horses  did  revel  in  it !  We  camped  the  first  night 
in  a  beautiful  meadow,  and  soon  after  settling  down 
I  borrowed  Sergeant  Gregory's  one-eyed  horse  to 
go  foraging  on.  I  was  very  successful;  I  got  sup 
per  at  a  comfortable  Dutch  house,  and  at  it  and  one 
or  two  others  I  bought  myself  and  the  mess  rich. 
As  I  was  returning  to  camp  after  night  with  a  ham 


52       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

of  bacon  between  me  and  the  pommel  of  the  saddle, 
a  bucket  of  butter  on  one  arm,  a  kerchief  of  pies  on 
the  other,  and  chickens  swung  across  behind,  my  one- 
eyed  horse  stumbled  and  fell  forward  about  ten  feet 
with  his  nose  to  the  ground.  I  let  him  take  care  of 
himself  while  I  took  care  of  my  provisions.  When 
he  recovered  his  feet  and  started,  I  do  not  think  a 
single  one  of  my  possessions  had  slipped  an  inch. 


CHAPTER  V 

BRIDGEWATER LURAY   VALLEY  --  FRONT    ROYAL  — 

FOLLOWING  GENERAL  BANKS NIGHT  MARCH- 
BATTLE    OF    WINCHESTER BANK/S    RETREAT 

THE  next  day  we  who  were  on  foot  crossed  the 
Shenandoah  on  a  hriclge  made  of  wagons  standing 
side  by  side,  with  tongues  up-stream,  and  boards 
extending  from  one  wagon  to  another.  We  reached 
Bridgewater  about  four  p.  M.  It  was  a  place  of 
which  I  had  never  heard,  and  a  beautiful  village  it 
proved  to  be,  buried  in  trees  and  flowers.  From 
Bridgewater  we  went  to  Harrisonburg,  and  then  on 
our  old  familiar  and  beaten  path — the  Valley  pike 
to  New  Market.  Thence  obliquely  to  the  right, 
crossing  the  Massanutten  Mountain  into  Lurav 
Valley.  During  the  Milroy  campaign  Ewell  had 
crossed  into  the  Valley,  and  we  now  followed  his 
division,  which  was  several  miles  in  advance.  Banks 
was  in  command  of  the  Union  force  in  the  Valley, 
with  his  base  at  Winchester  and  detachments  of  his 
army  at  Strasburg,  eighteen  miles  southwest,  and 
at  Front  Royal,  about  the  same  distance  in  the  Lu- 
ray  Valley.  So  the  latter  place  was  to  be  attacked 
first.  About  three  p.  M.  the  following  day  cannon 
ading  was  heard  on  ahead,  and,  after  a  sharp  fight, 

53 


54      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

Ewell  carried  the  day.  We  arrived  about  sundown, 
after  it  was  all  over.  In  this  battle  the  First  Mary 
land  Regiment  (Confederate)  had  met  the  First 
Maryland  (Federal)  and  captured  the  whole  regi 
ment.  Several  members  of  our  battery  had  bro 
thers  or  other  relatives  in  the  Maryland  (Confed 
erate)  regiment,  whom  they  now  met  for  the  first 
time  since  going  into  service.  Next  day  we  moved 
toward  Middletown  on  the  Valley  pike,  and  mid 
way  between  Winchester  and  Strasburg. 

Jackson's  rapid  movements  seemed  to  have  taken 
the  enemy  entirely  by  surprise,  and  we  struck  their 
divided  forces  piecemeal,  and  even  after  the  Front 
Royal  affair  their  troops  at  Strasburg,  consisting 
chiefly  of  cavalry,  had  not  moved.  Two  of  our  guns 
were  sent  on  with  the  Louisiana  Tigers,  to  intercept 
them  at  Middletown.  The  guns  were  posted  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  the  road,  and  the 
Tigers  strung  along  behind  a  stone  fence  on  the 
roadside.  Everything  was  in  readiness  when  the 
enemy  came  in  sight.  They  wavered  for  a  time, 
some  trying  to  pass  around,  but,  being  pushed  from 
behind,  there  was  no  alternative.  Most  of  them  tried 
to  run  the  gauntlet ;  few,  however,  got  through.  As 
the  rest  of  us  came  up  we  met  a  number  of  prisoners 
on  horseback.  They  had  been  riding  at  a  run  for 
nine  miles  on  the  pike  in  a  cloud  of  white  dust. 
Many  of  them  were  hatless,  some  had  sabre-cuts  on 
their  heads  and  streams  of  blood  were  coursing  down 
through  the  dust  on  their  faces.  Among  them  was 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON       55 

a  woman  wearing  a  short  red  skirt  and  mounted  on 
a  tall  horse. 

Confined  in  a  churchyard  in  the  village  were  two 
or  three  hundred  prisoners.  As  we  were  passing 
by  them  an  old  negro  cook,  belonging  to  the  Alle- 
ghany  Rough  Battery  of  our  brigade,  ran  over  to 
the  fence  and  gave  them  a  hearty  greeting,  said  he 
was  delighted  to  see  them  "thar,"  and  that  we  would 
catch  all  the  rest  of  them  before  they  got  back  home. 
Bank's  main  force  was  at  Winchester,  and  thither 
we  directed  our  course. 

Newtown  was  the  next  village,  and  there  we  had 
another  skirmish,  our  artillery  being  at  one  end  of 
the  town  and  the  enemy's  at  the  opposite.  In  this 
encounter  two  members  of  our  battery,  Calvin 
Bold  and  George  Ginger,  were  wounded.  There 
was  great  rejoicing  among  the  people  to  see  us  back 
again  and  to  be  once  more  free  from  Northern  sol 
diers.  As  the  troops  were  passing  through  Xe\v- 
town  a  very  portly  old  lady  came  running  out  on  her 
porch,  and,  spreading  her  arms  wide,  called  out, 
"All  of  you  run  here  and  kiss  me!" 

Our  captures  were  not  confined  to  men  and  horses, 
but  army  stores  of  all  kinds.  From  a  butler's  wagon 
we  passed,  William  Boiling  secured  a  whole  barrel 
of  ginger  cakes,  which  he  placed  in  our  ambulance 
at  the  rear  of  the  battery.  Word  was  passed  along 
the  line  and  soon  a  large  funeral  procession  was  in 
its  wake  devouring  ginger  cakes. 

Night  soon  set  in,  and  a  long,  weary  night  it  was ; 


56      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

the  most  trying  I  ever  passed,  in  war  or  out  of  it. 
From  dark  till  daylight  we  did  not  advance  more 
than  four  miles.  Step  by  step  we  moved  along,  halt 
ing  for  five  minutes;  then  on  a  few  steps  and  halt 
again.  About  ten  o'clock  we  passed  by  a  house 
rather  below  the  roadside,  on  the  porch  of  which 
lay  several  dead  Yankees,  a  light  shining  on  their 
ghastly  faces.  Occasionally  we  were  startled  by  the 
sharp  report  of  a  rifle,  followed  in  quick  succession 
by  others ;  then  all  as  quiet  as  the  grave.  Sometimes, 
when  a  longer  halt  was  made,  we  would  endeavor  to 
steal  a  few  moments'  sleep,  for  want  of  which  it  was 
hard  to  stand  up.  By  the  time  a  blanket  was  un 
rolled,  the  column  was  astir  again,  and  so  it  con 
tinued  throughout  the  long,  dreary  hours  of  the 
night. 

At  last  morning  broke,  clear  and  beautiful,  find 
ing  us  about  two  miles  from  Winchester.  After 
moving  on  for  perhaps  half  a  mile,  we  filed  to  the 
left.  All  indications  were  that  a  battle  was  immi 
nent,  Banks  evidently  intending  to  make  one  more 
effort.  The  sun  was  up,  and  never  shone  on  a  pret 
tier  country  nor  a  lovelier  May  morning.  Along  our 
route  was  a  brigade  of  Louisiana  troops  under  the 
command  of  Gen.  Dick  Taylor,  of  Ewell's  division. 
They  were  in  line  of  battle  in  a  ravine,  and  as  we 
were  passing  by  them  several  shells  came  screaming 
close  over  our  heads  and  burst  just  beyond.  I  heard 
a  colonel  chiding  his  men  for  dodging,  one  of  whom 
called  out,  in  reply,  "Colonel,  lead  us  up  to  where 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       57 

we  can  get  at  them  and  then  we  won't  dodge !"  We 
passed  on,  bearing  to  the  left  and  in  the  direction 
from  which  the  shells  came.  General  Jackson  or 
dered  us  to  take  position  on  the  hill  just  in  front.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  clover,  and  as  we  reached 
the  crest  we  were  met  by  a  volley  of  musketry  from 
a  line  of  infantry  behind  a  stone  fence  about  two 
hundred  yards  distant. 

My  gun  was  one  of  the  last  to  get  into  position, 
coming  up  on  the  left.  I  was  assigned  the  position 
of  No.  2,  Jim  Ford  No.  1.  The  Minie-balls  were 
now  flying  fast  by  our  heads,  through  the  clover  and 
everywhere.  A  charge  of  powder  was  handed  me, 
which  I  put  into  the  muzzle  of  the  gun.  In  a  rifled 
gun  this  should  have  been  rammed  home  first,  but 
No.  1  said,  "Put  in  your  shell  and  let  one  ram  do. 
Hear  those  Minies?"  I  heard  them  and  adopted 
the  suggestion ;  the  consequence  was,  the  charge 
stopped  half-way  down  and  there  it  stuck,  and  the 
gun  was  thereby  rendered  unavailable.  This  was 
not  very  disagreeable,  even  from  a  patriotic  point  of 
view,  as  we  could  do  but  little  good  shooting  at  in 
fantry  behind  a  stone  fence.  On  going  about  fifty 
yards  to  the  rear,  I  came  up  with  my  friend  and 
messmate,  Gregory,  who  was  being  carried  by  sev 
eral  comrades.  A  Minie-ball  had  gone  through  his 
left  arm  into  his  breast  and  almost  through  his  body, 
lodging  in  the  right  side  of  his  back.  Still  he  recov 
ered,  and  was  a  captain  of  ordnance  at  the  surren 
der,  and  two  years  ago  I  visited  him  at  his  own 


58      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

home  in  California.  As  my  train  stopped  at  his 
depot,  and  I  saw  a  portly  old  gentleman  with  a  long 
white  beard  coming  to  meet  it,  I  thought  of  the 
youth  I  remembered,  and  said,  "Can  that  be  Greg 
ory?" 

Then  came  Frank  Preston  with  his  arm  shattered, 
which  had  to  be  amputated  at  the  shoulder.  I 
helped  to  carry  Gregory  to  a  barn  one  hundred  and 
fifty  yards  in  the  rear,  and  there  lay  Bob  McKim, 
of  Baltimore,  another  member  of  the  company,  shot 
through  the  head  and  dying.  Also  my  messmate, 
Wash.  Stuart,  who  had  recently  joined  the  battery. 
A  ball  had  struck  him  just  below  the  cheek-bone, 
and,  passing  through  the  mouth,  came  out  on  the 
opposite  side  of  his  face,  breaking  out  most  of  his 
jaw-teeth.  Then  came  my  brother  John  with  a 
stream  of  blood  running  from  the  top  of  his  head, 
and,  dividing  at  the  forehead,  trickled  in  all  direc 
tions  down  his  face.  My  brother  David  was  also 
slightly  wounded  on  the  arm  by  a  piece  of  shell. 
By  this  time  the  Louisianians  had  been  "led  up  to 
where  they  could  get  at  them,"  and  gotten  them  on 
the  run.  As  one  of  our  guns  was  being  put  into 
position  a  gate-post  interfered  and  was  jammed  be 
tween  a  wheel  and  the  tongue.  In  response  to  Capt. 
Poague's  request  for  volunteers  to  cut  it  down,  Can 
noneer  Whitt  promptly  undertook  and  completed 
the  task,  under  a  constant  hail  of  bullets  from  the 
sharp-shooters  behind  the  stone-wall. 

In  this  battle,  known  as  First  Winchester,  two  of 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       59 

the  battery  were  killed  and  twelve  or  fourteen 
wounded.  The  fighting  was  soon  over  and  became 
a  chase.  My  gun  being  hors  dc  combat,  I  remained 
awhile  with  the  wounded,  so  did  not  witness  the  first 
wild  enthusiasm  of  the  Winchester  people  as  our 
men  drove  the  enemy  through  the  streets,  but  heard 
that  the  ladies  could  not  be  kept  indoors.  Our  bat 
tery  did  itself  credit  on  this  occasion.  I  will  quote 
from  Gen.  Dick  Taylor's  book,  entitled  "Destruc 
tion  and  Reconstruction" :  "  Jackson  was  on  the 
pike  and  near  him  were  several  regiments  lying 
down  for  shelter,  as  the  fire  from  the  ridge  was 
heavy  and  searching.  A  Virginian  battery,  the 
Rockbridge  Artillery,  was  fighting  at  great  disad 
vantage,  and  already  much  cut  up.  Poetic  author 
ity  asserts  that  'Old  Virginny  never  tires,'  and  the 
conduct  of  this  battery  justified  the  assertion  of  the 
muses.  With  scarce  a  leg  or  wheel  for  man  and 
horse,  gun  or  caisson,  to  stand  on,  it  continued  to 
hammer  away  at  the  crushing  fire  above."  And 
further  on  in  the  same  narrative  he  says,  "Mean 
while,  the  Rockbridge  Battery  held  on  manfully 
and  engaged  the  enemy's  attention."  Dr.  Dalmey's 
"Life  of  Stonewall  Jackson,"  page  377,  says: 
"Just  at  this  moment  General  Jackson  rode  for 
ward,  followed  by  two  field-officers,  to  the  very 
crest  of  the  hill,  and,  amidst  a  perfect  shower  of 
balls  reconnoitred  the  whole  position. 
He  saw  them  posting  another  battery,  with  which 
they  hoped  to  enfilade  the  ground  occupied  by  the 


60      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

guns  of  Poague;  and  nearer  to  his  left  front  a  body 
of  riflemen  were  just  seizing  a  position  behind  a 
stone  fence  when  they  poured  a  galling  fire  upon 
the  gunners  and  struck  down  many  men  and  horses. 
Here  this  gallant  battery  stood  its  ground,  some 
times  almost  silenced,  yet  never  yielding  an  inch. 
After  a  time  they  changed  their  front  to  the  left, 
and  while  a  part  of  their  guns  replied  to  the  oppos 
ing  battery  the  remainder  shattered  the  stone  fence, 
which  sheltered  the  Federal  infantry,  with  solid 
shot  and  raked  it  with  canister." 

In  one  of  the  hospitals  I  saw  Jim  ("Red")  Jor 
dan,  an  old  schoolmate  and  member  of  the  Alle- 
ghany  Roughs,  with  his  arm  and  shoulder  horribly 
mangled  by  a  shell.  He  had  beautiful  brown  eyes, 
and,  as  I  came  into  the  room  where  he  lay  tossing 
on  his  bed,  he  opened  them  for  a  moment  and  called 
my  name,  but  again  fell  back  delirious,  and  soon 
afterward  died. 

The  chase  was  now  over,  and  the  town  full  of 
soldiers  and  officers,  especially  the  latter.  I  was 
invited  by  John  Williams,  better  known  as 
"Johnny,"  to  spend  the  night  at  his  home,  a  home 
renowned  even  in  hospitable  Winchester  for  its 
hospitality.  He  had  many  more  intimate  friends 
than  I,  and  the  house  was  full.  Still  I  thought  I 
received  more  attention  and  kindness  than  even  the 
officers.  I  was  given  a  choice  room  all  to  myself, 
and  never  shall  I  forget  the  impression  made  by  the 
sight  of  that  clean,  snow-white  bed,  the  first  I  had 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON       61 

seen  since  taking  up  arms  for  my  country,  which 
already  seemed  to  me  a  lifetime.  I  thought  I  must 
lie  awake  a  while,  in  order  to  take  in  the  situation, 
then  go  gradually  to  sleep,  realizing  that  to  no  rude 
alarm  was  I  to  hearken,  and  once  or  twice  during 
the  night  to  wake  up  and  realize  it  again.  But, 
alas !  my  plans  were  all  to  no  purpose ;  for,  after 
the  continual  marching  and  the  vigils  of  the  pre 
vious  night,  I  was  asleep  the  moment  my  head 
touched  the  pillow,  nor  moved  a  muscle  till  break 
fast  was  announced  next  morning. 


CHAPTER  VI 

CAPTURING   FEDERAL   CAVALRY  -  -  CHARLESTOWN  - 
EXTRAORDINARY  MARCH 

AFTER  camping  for  a  day  or  two  about  three 
miles  below  Winchester  we  marched  again  toward 
Harper's  Ferry,  thirty  miles  below.  Four  of  the 
six  guns  of  the  battery  were  sent  in  advance  with 
the  infantry  of  the  brigade;  the  other  two  guns,  to 
one  of  which  I  belonged,  coming  on  leisurely  in  the 
rear.  As  we  approached  Charlestown,  seated  on  the 
limbers  and  caissons,  we  saw  three  or  four  of  our 
cavalrymen  coming  at  full  speed  along  a  road  on 
our  left,  which  joined  the  road  we  were  on,  mak 
ing  an  acute  angle  at  the  end  of  the  main  street. 
They  announced  "Yankee  cavalry"  as  they  passed 
and  disappeared  into  the  town.  In  a  moment  the 
Federals  were  within  one  hundred  yards  of  us.  We 
had  no  officer,  except  Sergeant  Jordan,  but  we 
needed  none.  Instantly  every  man  was  on  his  feet, 
the  guns  unlimbered,  and,  by  the  time  the  muzzles 
were  in  the  right  direction,  No.  5  handed  me  a 
charge  of  canister,  No.  1  standing  ready  to  ram. 
Before  I  put  the  charge  into  the  gun  the  enemy  had 
come  to  a  halt  within  eighty  yards  of  us,  and  their 
commanding  officer  drew  and  waved  a  white  hand 
kerchief.  We,  afraid  to  leave  our  guns  lest  they 

62 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       63 

should  escape  or  turn  the  tables  on  us,  after  some 
time  prevailed  on  our  straggling  cavalry,  who  had 
halted  around  the  turn,  to  ride  forward  and  take 
them.  There  were  seventeen  Federals,  well-mounted 
and  equipped.  Our  cavalry  claimed  all  the  spoils, 
and  I  heard  afterward  most  of  the  credit,  too.  We 
got  four  of  the  horses,  one  of  which,  under  various 
sergeants  and  corporals,  and  by  the  name  of  "Fiz 
zle/  became  quite  a  celebrity. 

Delighted  with  our  success  and  gallantry,  we 
again  mounted  our  caissons  and  entered  the  town  at 
a  trot.  The  people  had  been  under  Northern  rule 
for  a  long  time,  and  were  rejoiced  to  greet  their 
friends.  I  heard  a  very  old  lady  say  to  a  little  girl, 
as  we  drove  by,  "Oh,  dear!  if  your  father  was  just 
here,  to  see  this !"  The  young  ladies  were  stand 
ing  on  the  sides  of  the  streets,  and,  as  our  guns 
rattled  by,  would  reach  out  to  hand  us  some  of  the 
dainties  from  their  baskets ;  but  we  had  had  plenty, 
so  they  could  not  reach  far  enough.  The  excitement 
over,  we  went  into  camp  in  a  pretty  piece  of  woods 
two  miles  below  the  town  and  six  from  Harper's 
Ferry.  Here  we  spent  several  days  pleasantly. 

Mayor  Middleton,  of  our  town,  Lexington,  had 
followed  us  with  a  wagonload  of  boxes  of  edibles 
from  home.  So  many  of  the  company  had  been 
wounded  or  left  behind  that  the  rest  of  us  had  a 
double  share.  Gregory's  box,  which  Middleton 
brought  from  the  railroad,  contained  a  jar  of  deli 
cious  pickle.  I  had  never  relished  it  before,  but 


64      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

camp-life  had  created  a  craving  for  it  that  seemed 
insatiable.  The  cows  of  the  neighborhood  seemed 
to  have  a  curiosity  to  see  us,  and  would  stroll 
around  the  camp  and  stand  kindly  till  a  canteen 
could  be  filled  with  rich  milk,  which  could  soon  be 
cooled  in  a  convenient  spring.  Just  outside  of 
Charlestown  lived  the  Ransons,  who  had  formerly 
lived  near  Lexington  and  were  great  friends  of  my 
father's  family.  I  called  to  see  them.  "Buck,"  the 
second  son,  was  then  about  fifteen  and  chafing  to 
go  into  the  army.  I  took  a  clean  shave  with  his 
razor,  which  he  used  daily  to  encourage  his  beard 
and  shorten  his  stay  in  Jericho.  He  treated  me  to 
a  flowing  goblet  of  champagne  left  by  the  Federal 
officers  in  their  haste,  and  gave  me  a  lead-colored 
knit  jacket,  with  a  blue  border,  in  which  I  felt  quite 
fine,  and  wore  through  the  rest  of  the  campaign. 
It  was  known  in  the  mess  as  my  "Josey."  "Buck" 
eventually  succeeded  in  getting  in,  and  now  bears 
the  scars  of  three  saber-cuts  on  his  head. 

It  was  raining  the  day  we  broke  camp  and  started 
toward  Winchester,  but  our  march  was  enlivened 
by  the  addition  of  a  new7  recruit  in  the  person  of 
Steve  Dandridge.  He  was  about  sixteen  and  had 
just  come  from  the  Virginia  Military  Institute, 
where  he  had  been  sent  to  be  kept  out  of  the  army. 
He  wore  a  cadet-cap  which  came  well  over  the  eyes 
and  nose,  and  left  a  mass  of  brown,  curly  hair  un 
protected  on  the  back  of  his  head.  His  joy  at  being 
"mustered  in"  was  irrepressible.  He  had  no  ear 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON       65 

for  music,  was  really  "too  good-natured  to  strike 
a  tune,"  but  the  songs  he  tried  to  sing  would  have 
made  a  "dog  laugh."  Within  an  hour  after  his 
arrival  he  was  on  intimate  terms  with  everybody 
and  knew  and  called  us  all  by  our  first  names. 

The  march  of  this  day  was  one  of  the  noted  ones 
of  the  war.  Our  battery  traveled  about  thirty-five 
miles,  and  the  infantry  of  the  brigade,  being  camped 
within  a  mile  of  Harper's  Ferry,  made  more  than 
forty  miles  through  rain  and  mud.  The  cause  of 
this  haste  was  soon  revealed.  General  Fremont, 
with  a  large  army,  was  moving  rapidly  from  the 
north  to  cut  us  off,  and  was  already  nearer  our  base 
than  we  were,  \vhile  General  Shields,  with  another 
large  force,  was  pushing  from  the  southeast,  having 
also  the  advantage  of  us  in  distance,  and  trying  to 
unite  with  Fremont,  and  General  McDowell  with 
20,000  men  was  at  Fredericksburg.  The  roads  on 
which  the  three  armies  were  marching  concentrated 
at  Strasburg,  and  Jackson  was  the  first  to  get  there. 
Two  of  our  guns  were  put  in  position  on  a  fortified 
hill  near  the  town,  from  which  I  could  see  the  pick 
ets  of  both  the  opposing  armies  on  their  respective 
roads  and  numbers  of  our  stragglers  still  following 
on  behind  us,  between  the  two.  Many  of  our  offi 
cers  had  collected  around  our  guns  with  their  field- 
glasses,  and,  at  the  suggestion  of  one  of  them,  we 
fired  a  few  rounds  at  the  enemy's  videttes  "to  hurry 
up  our  stragglers." 

The  next  day,   when  near  the  village  of   Edin- 


66       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

burg,  a  squadron  of  our  cavalry,  under  command 
of  General  Munford,  was  badly  stampeded  by  a 
charge  of  Federal  cavalry.  Suddenly  some  of  these 
men  and  horses  without  riders  came  dashing  through 
our  battery,  apparently  blind  to  objects  in  their 
front.  One  of  our  company  was  knocked  down  by 
the  knees  of  a  flying  horse,  and,  as  the  horse  was 
making  his  next  leap  toward  him,  his  bridle  was 
seized  by  a  driver  and  the  horse  almost  doubled  up 
and  brought  to  a  standstill.  This  was  the  only  time 
I  ever  heard  a  field-officer  upbraided  by  privates; 
but  one  of  the  officers  got  ample  abuse  from  us  on 
that  occasion. 

I  had  now  again,  since  Winchester,  been  assigned 
to  a  Parrott  gun,  and  it,  with  another,  was  ordered 
into  position  on  the  left  of  the  road.  The  Federals 
soon  opened  on  us  with  two  guns  occupying  an  un 
favorable  position  considerably  below  us.  The 
gunner  of  my  piece  was  J.  P.  Smith,  who  afterward 
became  an  aide  on  General  Jackson's  staff,  and  was 
with  him  when  he  received  his  death-wound  at 
Chancellorsville.  One  of  the  guns  firing  at  us  could 
not,  for  some  time,  be  accurately  located,  owing  to 
some  small  trees,  etc.,  which  intervened,  so  the  other 
gun  received  most  of  our  attention.  Finally,  I 
marked  the  hidden  one  exactly,  beyond  a  small  tree, 
from  the  puff  of  smoke  when  it  fired.  I  then  asked 
J.  P.,  as  we  called  him,  to  let  me  try  a  shot  at  it,  to 
which  he  kindly  assented.  I  got  a  first-rate  aim  and 
ordered  "Fire!"  The  enemy's  gun  did  not  fire 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       67 

again,  though  its  companion  continued  for  some 
time.  I  have  often  wished  to  know  what  damage 
I  did  them. 

The  confusion  of  the  stampede  being  over,  the 
line  of  march  was  quietly  resumed  for  several  miles, 
until  we  reached  "The  Narrows,"  where  we  again 
went  into  position.  I  had  taken  a  seat  by  the  road 
side  and  was  chatting  with  a  companion  while  the 
guns  drove  out  into  a  field  to  prepare  for  action, 
and,  as  I  could  see  the  ground  toward  the  enemy,  I 
knew  that  I  had  ample  time  to  get  to  my  post  before 
being  needed.  When  getting  out  the  accouterments 
the  priming-wire  could  not  be  found.  I  being  No.  3 
was,  of  course,  responsible  for  it.  I  heard  Captain 
Poague,  on  being  informed  who  No.  3  was,  shout, 
''Ned  Moore,  where  is  that  priming-wrire?"  I  re 
plied,  ''It  is  in  the  limber-chest  where  it  belongs." 
There  were  a  good  many  people  around,  and  I  did 
not  wish  it  to  appear  that  I  had  misplaced  my  little 
priming-wire  in  the  excitement  of  covering  Stone- 
wall's  retreat.  The  captain  yelled,  as  I  thought  un 
necessarily,  ''It  isn't  there !"  I,  in  the  same  tone, 
replied,  "It  is  there,  and  I  will  get  it!"  So  off  I 
hurried,  and,  to  my  delight,  there  it  was  in  its 
proper  place,  and  I  brought  it  forth  with  no  small 
flourish  and  triumph. 

After  waiting  here  for  a  reasonable  time,  and  no 
foe  appearing,  we  followed  on  in  rear  of  the  column 
without  further  molestation  or  incident  that  I  can 
now  recall.  We  reached  Harrisonburg  after  a  few 
days'  marching. 


CHAPTER  VII 

GENERAL  JACKSON    NARROWLY  ESCAPES  BEING   CAP 
TURED  AT   PORT   REPUBLIC CONTEST   BETWEEN 

CONFEDERATES  AND  FEDERALS  FOR  BRIDGE  OVER 
SHENANDOAH 

THE  College  company  had  as  cook  a  very  black 
negro  boy  named  Pete,  who  through  all  this  march 
ing  had  carried,  on  a  baggage-wagon,  a  small  game 
rooster  which  he  named  "Ashby"  and  which  he  told 
me  had  whipped  every  chicken  from  Harrisonburg 
to  Winchester  and  back  again.  At  last  poor  Ashby 
met  defeat,  and  Pete  consigned  him  to  the  pot,  say 
ing,  "No  chicken  dat  kin  be  whipped  shall  go  'long 
wid  Jackson's  headquarters."  At  Harrisonburg  we 
turned  to  the  left  again,  but  this  time  obliquely,  in 
the  direction  of  Port  Republic,  twenty  miles  distant. 
We  went  into  camp  on  Saturday  evening,  June  7, 
about  one  mile  from  Port  Republic  and  on  the  north 
side  of  the  Shenandoah.  Shields  had  kept  his  army 
on  the  south  side  of  this  stream  and  had  been  mov 
ing  parallel  with  us  during  our  retreat.  Jackson's 
division  was  in  advance.  Instead  of  going  into 
camp,  I,  with  two  messmates,  Boiling  and  Walter 
Packard,  diverged  to  a  log-house  for  supper.  The 
man  of  the  house  was  quiet;  his  wife  did  the  talk- 

68 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON       69 

ing,  and  a  great  deal  of  it.  She  flatly  refused  us  a 
bite  to  eat,  but,  on  stating  the  case  to  her,  she  con 
sented  to  let  us  have  some  bread  and  milk.  Seated 
around  an  unset  dining-table  we  began  divesting 
ourselves  of  our  knapsacks.  She  said,  "Just  keep 
your  baggage  on ;  you  can  eat  a  bite  and  go."  We 
told  her  we  could  eat  faster  unharnessed.  She 
sliced  a  loaf  of  bread  as  sad  as  beeswax,  one  she 
had  had  on  hand  for  perhaps  a  week,  and  gave  us 
each  a  bowl  of  sour  milk,  all  the  while  reminding 
us  to  make  our  stay  short.  For  the  sake  of  "argu 
ment"  we  proposed  to  call  around  for  breakfast. 
She  scorned  the  idea,  had  "promised  breakfast  to 
fifty  already."  "Staying  all  night?  Not  any."  We 
said  we  could  sleep  in  the  yard  and  take  our  chances 
for  breakfast.  After  yielding,  inch  by  inch,  she  said 
we  could  sleep  on  the  porch.  "Well,  I  reckon  yon 
just  as  well  come  into  the  house,"  and  showed  us 
into  a  snug  room  containing  two  nice,  clean  beds, 
in  one  of  which  lay  a  little  "nigger"  about  five  years 
old,  with  her  nappy  head  on  a  snow-white  pillow. 
We  took  the  floor  and  slept  all  night,  and  were 
roused  next  morning  to  partake  of  a  first-rate  break 
fast. 

About  eight  or  nine  o'clock  this  Sunday  morn 
ing  we  were  taking  our  ease  in  and  about  camp, 
some  having  gone  to  the  river  to  bathe,  and  the 
horses  turned  loose  in  the  fields  to  graze.  I  was 
stretched  at  full  length  on  the  ground,  when 
"bang!"  went  a  Yankee  cannon  about  a  mile  in  our 


70      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

rear,  toward  Port  Republic.  We  were  up  and  astir 
instantly,  fully  realizing  the  situation.  By  lending 
my  assistance  to  the  drivers  in  catching  and  hitch 
ing  up  the  horses,  my  gun  was  the  first  ready,  and 
started  immediately  in  the  direction  of  the  firing, 
with  Captain  Poague  in  the  lead,  the  other  guns 
following  on  as  they  got  ready. 

Three  or  four  hundred  yards  brought  us  in  full 
view  of  Port  Republic,  situated  just  across  the 
river.  Beyond,  and  to  the  left  of  the  village,  was  a 
small  body  of  woods;  below  this,  and  lying  between 
the  river  and  mountain,  an  open  plain.  We  fired  on 
several  regiments  of  infantry  in  the  road  parallel 
to  and  across  the  river,  who  soon  began  moving  off 
to  the  left.  The  other  guns  of  the  battery,  arriving 
on  the  scene  one  at  a  time,  took  position  on  our  left 
and  opened  vigorously  on  the  retreating  infantry. 
My  gun  then  moved  forward  and  unlimbered  close 
to  a  bridge  about  two  hundred  yards  below  the 
town,  where  we  took  position  on  a  bluff  in  the  bend 
of  the  river.  We  commenced  firing  at  the  enemy's 
cavalry  as  they  emerged  from  the  woods  and  crossed 
the  open  plain.  One  of  our  solid  shots  struck  a  horse 
and  rider  going  at  full  gallop.  The  horse  reared 
straight  up,  then  down  both  fell  in  a  common  heap 
to  rise  no  more. 

While  in  this  position  General  Jackson,  who  had 
narrowly  escaped  being  captured  in  his  quarters  in 
the  town,  came  riding  up  to  us.  Soon  after  his  ar 
rival  we  saw  a  single  piece  of  artillery  pass  by  the 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       71 

lower  end  of  the  village,  and,  turning  to  the  right, 
drive  quietly  along  the  road  toward  the  bridge.  The 
men  were  dressed  in  blue,  most  of  them  having  on 
blue  overcoats ;  still  we  were  confident  they  were 
our  own  men,  as  three-fourths  of  us  wore  captured 
overcoats.  General  Jackson  ordered,  "Fire  on  that 
gun!"  We  said,  "General,  those  are  our  men."  The 
General  repeated,  "Fire  on  that  gun !"  Captain 
Poague  said,  "General,  I  know  those  are  our  men." 
(Poague  has  since  told  me  that  he  had,  that  morn 
ing,  crossed  the  river  and  seen  one  of  our  batteries 
in  camp  near  this  place.)  Then  the  General  called, 
"Bring  that  gun  over  here,"  and  repeated  the  order 
several  times.  We  had  seen,  a  short  distance  be 
hind  us,  a  regiment  of  our  infantry,  the  Thirty- 
seventh  Virginia.  It  was  now  marching  in  column 
very  slowly  toward  us.  In  response  to  Jackson's 
order  to  "bring  that  gun  over  here,"  the  Federals, 
for  Federals  they  were,  unlimbered  their  gun  and 
pointed  it  through  the  bridge.  We  tried  to  fire,  but 
could  not  depress  our  gun  sufficiently  for  a  good 
aim. 

The  front  of  the  infantry  regiment  had  now 
reached  a  point  within  twenty  steps  of  us  on  our 
right,  when  the  Federals  turned  their  gun  toward 
us  and  fired,  killing  the  five  men  of  the  regiment  at 
the  front.  The  Federals  then  mounted  their  horses 
and  limber,  leaving  their  gun  behind,  and  started 
off.  The  infantry,  shocked  by  their  warm  recep 
tion,  had  not  yet  recovered.  We  called  on  them, 


72       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

over  and  over,  to  kill  a  horse  as  the  enemy  drove  off. 
They  soon  began  shooting,  and,  I  thought,  fired 
shots  enough  to  kill  a  dozen  horses ;  but  on  the  Fed 
erals  went,  right  in  front  of  us,  and  not  more  than 
one  hundred  yards  distant,  accompanied  by  two  offi 
cers  on  horseback.  When  near  the  town  the  horse 
of  one  officer  received  a  shot  and  fell  dead.  The 
Thirty-seventh  Virginia  followed  on  in  column 
through  the  bridge,  its  front  having  passed  the  de 
serted  gun  while  its  rear  was  passing  us.  The  men 
in  the  rear,  mistaking  the  front  of  their  own  regi 
ment  for  the  enemy,  opened  fire  on  them,  heedless 
of  the  shouts  of  their  officers  and  of  the  artillery 
men  as  to  what  they  were  doing.  I  saw  a  little  fel 
low  stoop,  and,  resting  his  rifle  on  his  knee,  take  a 
long  aim  and  fire.  Fortunately,  they  shot  no  better 
at  their  own  men  than  they  did  at  the  enemy,  as 
not  a  man  was  touched.  Up  to  this  time  we  had 
been  absorbed  in  events  immediately  at  hand,  but, 
quiet  being  now  restored,  we  heard  cannonading 
back  toward  Harrisonburg.  Fremont  had  attacked 
Ewell  at  Cross  Keys  about  four  miles  from  us.  Soon 
the  musketry  was  heard  and  the  battle  waxed  warm. 
Remaining  in  this  position  the  greater  portion  of 
the  day,  we  listened  anxiously  to  learn  from  the  in 
creasing  or  lessening  sound  how  the  battle  was  go 
ing  with  Ewell,  and  turned  our  eyes  constantly  in 
the  opposite  direction,  expecting  a  renewal  of  the 
attack  from  Shields.  Toward  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  the  sound  became  more  and  more  remote 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON       73 

— Ewell  had  evidently  been  victorious,  which  fact 
was  later  confirmed  by  couriers.  We  learned,  too, 
of  the  death  of  General  Ashby,  which  had  occurred 
the  preceding  day,  and  that  his  body  had  been  borne 
through  our  camp  just  before  the  alarm  of  that 
morning.  In  an  encounter  with  the  First  New  Jer 
sey  Cavalry,  which  was  led  by  Colonel  Percy  Wind- 
ham,  an  Englishman  who  was  captured  in  the 
melee,  Ashby's  horse  was  killed  under  him ;  he  rose, 
and  while  leading  the  Fifty-eighth  Virginia  on  foot, 
he  fell  pierced  by  a  bullet  and  died  almost  instantly. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BATTLE   OF   PORT  REPUBLIC 

ABOUT  sundown  we  crossed  on  the  bridge,  and 
our  wagons  joining  us  we  went  into  bivouac.  In 
times  of  this  kind,  when  every  one  is  tired,  each  has 
to  depend  on  himself  to  prepare  his  meal.  While  I 
was  considering  how  best  and  soonest  I  could  get 
my  supper  cooked,  Bob  Lee  happened  to  stop  at  our 
fire,  and  said  he  would  show  me  a  first-rate  plan.  It 
was  to  mix  flour  and  water  together  into  a  thin  bat 
ter,  then  fry  the  grease  out  of  bacon,  take  the  meat 
out  of  the  frying  pan  and  pour  the  batter  in,  and 
then  "just  let  her  rip  awhile  over  the  fire."  I  found 
the  receipt  a  good  one  and  expeditious. 

About  two  miles  below  us,  near  the  river,  we 
could  plainly  see  the  enemy's  camp-fires.  Early 
next  morning  we  were  astir,  and  crossed  the  other 
fork  of  the  river  on  an  improvised  bridge  made  of 
boards  laid  on  the  running-gear  of  wagons. 

We  felt  assured  that  Fremont  and  Shields  had 
received  ample  satisfaction,  and  that  we  were  done 
with  them  for  the  present  at  least.  Still  more  were 
we  of  this  opinion  when  the  wagon-train  took  the 
Brown's  Gap  road  leading  across  the  Blue  Ridge, 
we  expecting,  of  course,  to  follow.  We  did  not  fol 
low,  however,  but  took  instead  the  route  Shields's 

74 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       75 

forces  had  taken  the  day  previous,  along  which  lay 
the  bodies  of  the  men  we  had  killed,  their  heads, 
with  few  exceptions,  being  shot  entirely  off. 

Having  gone  about  a  mile,  the  enemy  opened  on 
us  with  artillery,  their  shells  tearing  by  us  with  a 
most  venomous  whistle.  Halted  on  the  sides  of  the 
road,  as  we  moved  by,  were  the  infantry  of  our 
brigade.  Among  them  I  recognized  my  old  school 
teacher,  Alfonso  Smith,  who  had  just  joined  the 
army.  I  had  many  times  quailed  under  his  fierce 
eye  and  writhed  under  his  birch  rod.  The  strain  to 
which  he  was  subjected  under  these  circumstances 
was  doubly  trying,  waiting  inactive  for  his  first  bap 
tism  of  fire.  His  eye  was  restless  as  we  passed ; 
perhaps  he  had  a  presentiment,  as  he  received  his 
death-wound  before  the  day  was  over. 

Again  our  two  Parrott  guns  were  ordered  for 
ward.  Turning  out  of  the  road  to  the  left,  we  un- 
limbered  and  commenced  firing.  The  ground  on 
which  we  stood  was  level  and  very  soft,  and,  having 
no  hand-spike,  we  had  to  move  the  trail  of  the  gun 
by  main  force.  The  enemy  very  soon  got  our  range, 
and  more  accurate  shooting  I  was  never  subjected 
to.  The  other  four  guns  of  the  battery  now  came 
up,  and,  passing  along  a  small  ravine  about  forty 
yards  behind  us,  halted  for  a  time  nearby.  We  were 
hotly  engaged,  shells  bursting  close  around  and 
pelting  us  with  soft  dirt  as  they  struck  the  ground. 
Bob  Lee  came  creeping  up  from  his  gun  in  the 
ravine,  and  called  to  me,  "Ned,  that  isn't  making 


76      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

batter-cakes,  is  it?"  The  constant  recoiling  of  our 
gun  cut  great  furrows  in  the  earth,  which  made  it 
necessary  to  move  several  times  to  more  solid 
ground.  In  these  different  positions  which  we  oc 
cupied  three  of  the  enemy's  shells  passed  between 
the  wheels  and  under  the  axle  of  our  gun,  bursting 
at  the  trail.  One  of  them  undermined  the  gunner's 
(Henry's)  footing  and  injured  him  so  as  to  neces 
sitate  his  leaving  the  field.  Even  the  old  Irish  hero, 
Tom  Martin,  was  demoralized,  and,  in  dodging 
from  a  Yankee  shell,  was  struck  by  the  wheel  of  our 
gun  in  its  recoil  and  rendered  hors  de  combat.  We 
had  been  kept  in  this  position  for  two  or  three 
hours,  while  a  flank  movement  was  being  made  by 
Taylor's  Louisiana  Brigade  and  the  Second  Vir 
ginia  Regiment  through  the  brush  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  on  our  right.  When  it  was  thought  that 
sufficient  time  had  been  allowed  for  them  to  make 
the  detour,  our  whole  line  moved  forward,  the  rest 
of  the  battery  several  hundred  yards  to  our  left. 
When  my  gun  moved  up  an  eighth  of  a  mile  nearer 
to  the  enemy,  they  added  two  guns  to  the  three 
occupying  the  site  of  an  old  coal-hearth  at  the  foot 
of  the  rugged  mountain,  so  that  our  gun  had  five 
to  contend  with  for  an  hour  longer. 

Graham  Montgomery  had  become  gunner  in 
Henry's  place,  and  proved  a  good  one.  He  could 
not  be  hurried,  and  every  time  the  smoke  puffed 
from  our  gun  their  cannoneers  slid  right  and  left 
from  the  coal-hearth,  then  returning  to  their  guns 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON 

loaded  and  gave  us  a  volley.  As  usual  in  such 
cases,  our  flanking  party  was  longer  in  making  their 
appearance  than  expected.  The  whole  Federal  line 
charged,  and  as  they  did  so  their  ranks  rapidly 
thinned,  some  hesitating  to  advance,  while  others 
were  shot  down  in  full  view.  Still  they  drove  us 
back  and  captured  one  gun  of  our  battery.  Single 
ton,  of  my  mess,  was  captured,  and  Lieut.  Cole 
Davis,  supposed  to  be  mortally  wounded,  was  left 
on  the  field.  On  getting  back  a  short  distance  I 
found  myself  utterly  exhausted,  my  woolen  clothes 
wet  with  perspiration.  Having  been  too  tired  to 
get  out  of  the  wray  when  the  gun  fired,  my  ear 
drums  kept  up  the  vibrations  for  hours.  Sleep  soon 
overcame  me,  but  still  the  battle  reverberated  in  my 
head. 

The  Louisianians  and  the  Second  Virginia  had 
gotten  through  the  brush  and  driven  the  enemy  from 
the  field.  I  was  roused,  to  join  in  the  pursuit,  and 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  five  cannon  that 
had  played  on  our  gun  standing  silent  on  the  coal- 
hearth,  in  our  hands.  There  being  no  room  in  their 
rear,  their  caissons  and  limbers  stood  off  to  their 
right  on  a  flat  piece  of  heavily  wooded  ground.  This 
was  almost  covered  with  dead  horses.  I  think  there 
must  have  been  eighty  or  ninety  on  less  than  an 
acre ;  one  I  noticed  standing  almost  upright,  per 
fectly  lifeless,  supported  by  a  fallen  tree.  Farther 
on  we  overtook  one  of  our  battery  horses  which  we 
had  captured  from  Banks  twro  \veeks  before. 


78      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

Shields's  men  then  captured  him  from  us,  and  we 
again  from  them.  He  had  been  wounded  four  times, 
but  was  still  fit  for  service. 

The  other  four  guns  of  our  battery  were  posted 
in  a  wheat-field  where  the  faces  of  the  men  were 
constantly  sprinkled  with  the  milk  from  the  half- 
ripe  wheat,  splashed  by  the  Minies. 

Such  a  spectacle  as  we  here  witnessed  and  exult- 
ingly  enjoyed  possibly  has  no  parallel.  After  a 
rapid  retreat  of  more  than  one  hundred  miles,  to 
escape  from  the  clutches  of  three  armies  hotly  pur 
suing  on  flank  and  rear,  one  of  which  had  outstrip 
ped  us,  we  paused  to  contemplate  the  situation.  On 
the  ground  where  we  stood  lay  the  dead  and 
wounded  of  Shields's  army,  with  much  of  their  artil 
lery  and  many  prisoners  in  our  possession,  while, 
crowning  the  hills  in  full  view  and  with  no  means 
of  crossing  an  intervening  river,  even  should  they 
venture  to  do  so,  stood  another  army — Fremont's — 
with  flags  flying. 

The  narrow  road  with  river  ori  one  side  and 
mountain  on  the  other  caused  the  closely-pressed 
Federals  in  many  instances  to  "take  to  the  brush." 
George  Ailstock,  of  Rockbridge  County,  celebrated 
for  his  courage  and  physical  strength,  member  of 
Company  G,  Fifty-eighth  Virginia  Regiment,  with 
two  or  three  others  of  his  company,  was  in  hot  pur 
suit,  following  the  trail  of  a  band  through  broken 
brush  and  weeds,  and  being  fleeter  than  his  com 
panions  he  outran  them,  and  while  alone  overtook  a 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       79 

party  of  Federals,  a  lieutenant  and  twenty -eight 
privates.  He  called  on  them  to  surrender,  which 
they  did,  and  when  his  friends  came  up  he  had 
formed  his  prisoners  in  line  and  was  marching  them 
out.  When  asked  by  the  major  of  his  regiment  how 
he  had  managed  to  capture  so  many,  George  replied, 
''I  just  surrounded  'em,  Major." 


CHAPTER  IX 

FROM  BROWN'S  GAP  TO  STAUNTON — FROM  STAUN- 

TON   TO   RICHMOND COLD   HARBOR GENERAL 

LEE  VISITS  HIS  SON  IN  THE  BATTERY 

I  HAD  exchanged  my  brother  John  as  a  bed- fel 
low  for  Walter  Packard.  Walter  was  a  droll  fel 
low,  rather  given  to  arguing,  and  had  a  way  of 
enraging  his  adversary  while  he  kept  cool,  and 
when  it  suited,  could  put  on  great  dignity.  Imme 
diately  following  our  battery,  as  we  worked  our 
way  along  a  by-road  through  the  foothills  toward 
Brown's  Gap,  was  Gen.  Dick  Taylor  at  the  head  of 
his  Louisiana  Brigade.  Walter  had  mounted  and 
was  riding  on  a  caisson,  contrary  to  orders  recently 
issued  by  Jackson.  Taylor  ordered  him  to  get  down. 
Walter  turned  around,  and,  looking  coolly  at  him, 
said,  with  his  usual  sang-froid,  "Who  are  you,  and 
what  the  devil  have  you  to  do  with  my  riding  on  a 
caisson?"  Taylor  seemed  astounded  for  a  moment, 
and  then  opened  on  poor  Walter  with  a  volley  of 
oaths  that  our  champion  swearer,  Irish  Emmett, 
would  have  envied. 

Taylor  then  told  who  he  was  and  Walter  replied, 
"Excuse  me,  General,  I  have  my  Captain's  permis 
sion  to  ride." 

80 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       81 

When  we  had  gotten  about  half-way  to  the  top 
of  the  mountain,  I,  with  three  others,  was  detailed 
to  go  back  and  bring  Lieut.  Cole  Davis  from  the 
field.  We  were  too  tired  for  any  thought  but  of 
ourselves,  and  retraced  our  steps,  growling  as  we 
went.  We  had  heard  that  Davis  was  mortally 
wounded,  and  was  probably  dead  then.  Suddenly, 
one  hundred  yards  in  front  of  us,  we  saw  a  man  rid 
ing  slowly  toward  us,  sitting  erect,  with  his  plume 
flying.  We  said,  "That's  Davis  or  his  ghost!"  It 
was  he,  held  on  his  horse  by  a  man  on  each  side. 
We  walked  on  with  him  till  dusk,  but,  finding  he 
had  assistants  to  spare,  two  of  us  overtook  the  bat 
tery.  Davis  was  shot  through  the  body,  and  suffer 
ing  dreadfully,  able  to  move  only  in  an  upright 
posture.  He  entirely  recovered,  however,  and  did 
gallant  service  until  the  close  of  the  war. 

Still  photographed  on  my  memory  is  the  appear 
ance  of  the  body  of  one  of  the  Second  Virginia 
Regiment  being  hauled  on  our  rear  caisson.  His 
head  had  been  shot  off,  and  over  the  headless  trunk 
was  fastened  a  white  handkerchief,  which  served 
as  a  sort  of  guide  in  the  darkness.  Weary  of  plod 
ding  thus,  Graham  Montgomery  and  I  left  the  road, 
a  short  distance  from  which  we  concluded  to  spend 
the  night  and  be  subject  to  no  more  orders.  A 
drizzling  rain  was  falling.  Each  having  a  gum- 
cloth,  we  spread  one  on  the  loose  stones  and  the 
other  over  us,  with  our  feet  against  a  big  tree,  to 
keep  from  sliding  down  the  mountain-side.  We 


82      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

were  soon  asleep,  and  when  we  awoke  next  morn 
ing  we  had  slid  into  a  heap  close  against  the  tree. 
To  give  an  idea  of  the  ready  access  we  had  to  the 
enemy's  stores,  I  had  been  the  possessor  of  nine 
gum-blankets  within  the  past  three  weeks,  and  no 
such  article  as  a  gum-blanket  was  ever  manufac 
tured  in  the  South.  Any  soldier  carrying  a  Confed 
erate  canteen  was  at  once  recognized  as  a  new  re 
cruit,  as  it  required  but  a  short  time  to  secure  one  of 
superior  quality  from  a  dead  foeman  on  a  battlefield. 

Following  the  road  up  the  mountain,  we  came 
across  one  of  our  guns  which,  by  bad  driving, 
had  fallen  over  an  embankment  some  forty  feet. 
Two  horses  still  hitched  to  it  lay  on  their  backs, 
one  of  which  I  recognized  as  Gregory's  one-eyed 
dun  which  I  had  ridden  foraging  at  Bridgewater. 
After  my  arrival  on  top  of  the  mountain  I  was  sent 
with  a  detail  which  recovered  the  gun  and  the  two 
horses,  both  alive.  Dandridge  and  Adams  were  driv 
ing  the  team  when  the  gun  went  over.  They  saved 
themselves  by  jumping,  and  came  near  having  a 
fight  right  there  as  to  wrho  was  at  fault,  and  for  a 
long  time  afterward  it  was  only  necessary  to  refer 
to  the  matter  to  have  a  repetition  of  the  quarrel. 

After  a  day  or  two  we  countermarched  to 
ward  Port  Republic  and  went  into  camp  a  mile 
from  Weir's  cave,  where  we  spent  several  days. 
Thence  toward  Staunton  and  camped  near  the 
town.  Here  we  were  told  that  we  were  to  have 
a  month's  rest  in  consideration  of  our  long- 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       83 

continued  marching  and  fighting.  Rest,  indeed ! 
We  lost  the  three  days  we  might  have  had  for 
rest  while  there,  preparing  our  camp  for  a  month 
of  ease.  During  our  stay  here  my  father  paid  us 
a  visit,  having  ridden  from  Lexington  to  see  his 
three  sons.  After  having  gotten  ourselves  com 
fortable,  orders  came  to  pack  up  and  be  ready  to 
move.  I  had  carried  in  my  knapsack  a  pair  of  lady's 
shoes  captured  from  Bank's  plunder  at  Winchester. 
These  I  gave  to  a  camp  scavenger  who  came  from 
the  town  for  plunder. 

Little  did  we  dream  of  the  marching  and  fight 
ing  that  were  in  store  for  us.  Jackson,  having  van 
quished  three  armies  in  the  Valley,  was  now  ordered 
to  Richmond  with  his  "bloody  brigades." 

We  left  Staunton  about  the  twentieth  of  June, 
crossed  the  Blue  Ridge  at  Rockfish  Gap,  passed 
through  Charlottesville,  and  were  choked,  day  after 
day,  by  the  red  dust  of  the  Piedmont  region.  In 
Louisa  County  we  had  rain  and  mud  to  contend 
with,  thence  through  the  low,  flat  lands  of  Han 
over,  bearing  to  the  left  after  passing  Ashland. 

Our  destination  was  now  evident.  The  army 
around  Richmond  was  waiting  for  Jackson  to  dis 
lodge  McClellan  from  the  Chickahominy  swamps, 
and  our  attack  was  to  be  made  on  his  right  flank. 
It  seeins  that  our  powers  of  endurance  had  been 
over-estimated  or  the  distance  miscalculated,  as  the 
initiatory  battle  at  Mechanicsville  was  fought  by 
A.  P.  Hill  without  Jackson's  aid.  This  was  the 


84       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

first  of  the  seven  days'  fighting  around  Richmond. 
We  arrived  in  the  neighborhood  of  Cold  Harbor 
about  two  P.  M.  on  June  27,  and  approached  more 
and  more  nearly  the  preliminary  cannonading,  most 
of  which  was  done  by  the  enemy's  guns.  About 
three  o'clock  the  musketry  began,  and  soon  there 
after  the  infantry  of  our  brigade  was  halted  in  the 
road  alongside  of  us,  and,  loading  their  guns,  moved 
forward. 

In  a  short  time  the  fighting  became  furious,  done 
almost  entirely  on  our  side  with  small  arms,  as  few 
positions  could  be  found  for  artillery.  For  two  or 
three  hours  the  noise  of  the  battle  remained  almost 
stationary,  accentuated  at  intervals  by  the  shouting 
of  the  combatants,  as  ground  was  lost  or  won.  It 
was  here  that  General  Lee  said  to  General  Jackson, 
"That  fire  is  very  heavy !  Do  you  think  your  men 
can  stand  it?"  The  reply  was,  "They  can  stand 
almost  anything;  they  can  stand  that!"  We  stood 
expecting  every  moment  to  be  ordered  in,  as  every 
effort  was  made  by  our  officers  to  find  a  piece  of 
open  ground  on  which  we  could  unlimber.  By  sun 
down  the  firing  had  gradually  lessened  and  was  far 
ther  from  us,  and  when  night  came  on  the  enemy 
had  been  driven  from  their  fortifications  and  quiet 
was  restored.  The  loss  on  our  side  was  fearful. 
Among  the  killed  was  my  cousin,  James  Allen,  col 
onel  of  the  Second  Virginia  Regiment. 

While  lying  among  the  guns  in  park  that  night 
my  rest  was  frequently  disturbed  by  the  antics  of 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       85 

one  of  the  battery  horses  suffering  with  an  attack 
of  "blind  staggers,"  and  floundering  around  in  the 
darkness  among  the  sleeping  men. 

Before  leaving  our  place  of  bivouac  the  next 
morning,  a  visit  from  General  Lee,  attended  by  his 
full  staff,  to  his  son  Robert,  gave  us  our  first  oppor 
tunity  of  seeing  this  grand  man.  The  interview  be 
tween  father  and  son  is  described  by  the  latter  in  his 
"Recollections  and  Letters  of  Gen.  Robert  E.  Lee," 
which  I  quote : 

"The  day  after  the  battle  of  Cold  Harbor,  during 
the  'Seven  Days'  fighting  around  Richmond,  was 
the  first  time  I  met  my  father  after  I  had  joined 
General  Jackson.  The  tremendous  work  Stone- 
wall's  men  had  performed,  including  the  rapid 
march  from  the  Valley  of  Virginia,  the  short  ra 
tions,  the  bad  water,  and  the  great  heat,  had  begun 
to  tell  upon  us,  and  I  was  pretty  well  worn  out.  On 
this  particular  morning  my  battery  had  not  moved 
from  its  bivouac  ground  of  the  previous  night,  but 
was  parked  in  an  open  field,  all  ready  waiting  or 
ders.  Most  of  the  men  were  lying  down,  many  sleep 
ing,  myself  among  the  latter  number.  To  get  some 
shade  and  to  be  out  of  the  way  I  had  crawled  under 
a  caisson,  and  was  busy  making  up  many  lost  hours 
of  rest.  Suddenly  I  was  rudely  awakened  by  a 
comrade,  prodding  me  with  a  sponge-staff  as  I  had 
failed  to  be  aroused  by  his  call,  and  was  told  to  get 
up  and  come  out,  that  some  one  wished  to  see  me. 
Half -awake  I  staggered  out,  and  found  myself  face 


86       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

to  face  with  General  Lee  and  his  staff.  Their  fresh 
uniforms,  bright  equipments,  and  well-groomed 
horses  contrasted  so  forcibly  with  the  war-worn 
appearance  of  our  command  that  I  was  completely 
dazed.  It  took  me  a  moment  or  two  to  realize  what 
it  all  meant,  but  when  I  saw  my  father's  loving  eyes 
and  smile  it  became  clear  to  me  that  he  had  ridden 
by  to  see  if  I  was  safe  and  to  ask  how  I  was  getting 
along.  I  remember  well  how  curiously  those  with 
him  gazed  at  me,  and  I  am  sure  that  it  must  have 
struck  them  as  very  odd  that  such  a  dirty,  ragged, 
unkempt  youth  could  have  been  the  son  of  this 
grand-looking  victorious  commander. 

"I  was  introduced  recently  to  a  gentleman,  now 
living  in  Washington,  who,  when  he  found  out  my 
name,  said  he  had  met  me  once  before  and  that  it 
was  on  this  occasion.  At  that  time  he  was  a  mem 
ber  of  the  Tenth  Virginia  Infantry,  Jackson's  divi 
sion,  and  was  camped  near  our  battery.  Seeing 
General  Lee  and  staff  approach,  he,  with  others, 
drew  near  to  have  a  look  at  them,  and  witnessed 
the  meeting  between  father  and  son.  He  also  said 
that  he  had  often  told  of  the  incident  as  illustrating 
the  peculiar  composition  of  our  army." 

As  we  moved  on  over  the  battlefield  that  morning, 
the  number  of  slain  on  both  sides  was  fully  in  pro 
portion  to  the  magnitude  of  the  conflict  of  the  day 
preceding.  In  a  piece  of  woods  through  which  we 
passed,  and  through  which  the  battle  had  surged 
back  and  forth,  after  careful  observation  I  failed 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       87 

to  find  a  tree  the  size  of  a  man's  body  with  less  than 
a  dozen  bullet-marks  on  it  within  six  feet  of  the 
ground,  and  many  of  them  were  scarred  to  the  tops. 
Not  even  the  small  saplings  had  escaped,  yet  some 
of  the  men  engaged  had  passed  through  the  battle 
untouched.  I  was  with  my  messmate,  William  Boll- 
ing,  when  he  here  discovered  and  recognized  the 
dead  body  of  his  former  school-teacher,  Wood 
McDonald,  of  Winchester. 

On  the  28th  we  crossed  the  Chickahominy  on 
Grapevine  Bridge,  the  long  approaches  to  which 
were  made  of  poles,  thence  across  the  York  River 
Railroad  at  Savage  Station.  As  we  moved  along 
fighting  was  almost  constantly  heard  in  advance  of 
us,  and  rumors  were  rife  that  the  trap  was  so  set 
as  to  capture  the  bulk  of  McClellan's  army.  Near 
White  Oak  Swamp  we  reached  another  battlefield, 
and,  after  night,  went  into  bivouac  among  the 
enemy's  dead.  About  ten  o'clock  I,  with  several 
others,  was  detailed  to  go  back  with  some  wagons, 
to  get  a  supply  of  captured  ammunition.  For  four 
or  five  miles  we  jolted  over  corduroy  roads,  loaded 
our  wagons,  and  got  back  to  the  battery  just  before 
dawn  of  the  following  morning.  Scarcely  had  I 
stretched  myself  on  the  ground  when  the  bugle 
sounded  reveille,  and  even  those  who  had  spent  the 
night  undisturbed  were  with  difficulty  aroused  from 
sleep.  I  remember  seeing  Captain  Poague  go  to  a 
prostrate  form  that  did  not  respond  to  the  sum 
mons,  and  call  out,  "Wake  up,  wake  up!"  But, 


88      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

seeing  no  sign  of  stirring,  he  used  his  foot  to  give 
it  a  shake,  when  he  discovered  he  was  trying  to 
rouse  a  dead  Yankee!  Having  been  on  duty  all 
night  I  was  being  left  unmolested  to  the  last  mo 
ment,  when  Joe  Shaner  came  to  me,  as  usual,  and 
very  quietly  rolled  up  my  blanket  with  his,  to  be 
carried  on  his  off-horse.  This  was  the  battlefield 
of  White  Oak  Swamp,  fought  on  June  30.  Along 
the  march  from  Cold  Harbor  we  had  passed  several 
Federal  field-hospitals  containing  their  sick,  some 
of  them  in  tents,  some  lying  in  bunks  made  of  poles 
supported  on  upright  forks.  These  and  their  old 
camps  were  infested  with  vermin — "war  bugs,"  as 
we  usually  called  them — which,  with  what  we 
already  had  after  two  weeks  of  constant  march, 
with  neither  time  nor  material  for  a  change,  made 
us  exceedingly  uncomfortable. 


CHAPTER  X 

GENERAL    JACKSON    COMPLIMENTS    THE    BATTERY— 
MALVERN    HILL MY    VISIT    TO    RICHMOND 

ON  July  1  we  passed  near  the  battlefield  known 
as  Frazier's  Farm,  also  fought  on  June  30  by  the 
divisions  of  Magruder,  Longstreet,  and  others,  and 
arrived  early  in  the  day  in  front  of  Malvern  Hill. 
For  a  mile  or  more  our  road  ran  through  a  dense 
body  of  woods  extending  to  the  high  range  of  hills 
occupied  by  the  enemy.  At  a  point  where  another 
road  crossed  the  one  on  which  we  had  traveled,  and 
where  stood  two  old  gate-posts,  we  were  ordered  to 
mount  the  caissons  and  limbers  and  trot  on  toward 
the  firing  already  begun.  This  order  can  be  attrib 
uted  to  the  reputation  our  battery  had  made,  and  is 
a  matter  of  record,  which  I  quote:  "At  Malvern 
Hill  the  battery  was  openly  complimented  by  Gen 
eral  Jackson  in  connection  with  Carpenter's  battery. 
When  Gen.  D.  H.  Hill  asked  General  Jackson  if  he 
could  furnish  him  a  battery  which  would  hold  a 
certain  position,  from  which  two  or  three  batteries 
had  been  driven  by  the  galling  fire  of  the  enemy, 
he  said,  'Yes,  two,'  and  called  for  Carpenter  and 
Poague,  and  General  Hill  ordered  Captain  Poague 
to  bring  up  his  battery  at  once." 

89 


90      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

Taking  the  road  to  the  left,  we  soon  emerged 
from  the  woods  into  a  wheat-field,  the  grain  stand 
ing  in  shocks.  While  seated  on  a  caisson,  driving 
down  this  road  at  a  trot,  I  was  suddenly  seized  with 
a  presentiment  that  I  was  to  be  killed  in  this  battle, 
the  only  time  such  a  feeling  came  over  me  during 
the  war.  Finding  myself  becoming  rapidly  demor 
alized,  I  felt  that,  in  order  to  avoid  disgrace,  I  must 
get  down  from  that  seat  and  shake  the  wretched 
thing  off.  So  down  I  jumped  and  took  it  afoot, 
alongside  of  the  gun,  as  we  passed  down  a  little 
ravine  which  was  being  raked  from  end  to  end  by 
the  enemy's  shells.  The  diversion  worked  like  a 
charm,  for  in  two  minutes  the  apprehension  toned 
down  to  the  normal  proportions  of  "stage  fright." 
We  soon  were  in  position  with  our  six  guns  ablaze. 
The  enemy's  batteries  were  posted  on  considerably 
higher  ground,  with  three  times  as  many  guns  and 
of  heavier  calibre  than  ours,  which  served  us  the 
same  galling  fire  that  had  wrecked  the  batteries  pre 
ceding  us.  After  having  been  engaged  for  an  hour, 
a  battery  posted  some  two  hundred  yards  to  our  left 
was  stampeded  and  came  by  us  under  whip  and 
spur,  announcing,  as  they  passed,  that  they  were 
flanked  by  Federal  cavalry.  In  the  commotion, 
some  one  in  our  battery  called  out  that  we  had  orders 
to  withdraw,  and,  before  it  could  be  corrected,  eight 
or  ten  of  the  company,  joining  in  the  rout,  beat  a 
retreat  to  the  woods,  for  which  they  were  afterward 
punished;  some  being  assigned  as  drivers,  and  one 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       91 

or  two  gallant  fellows  having  it  ever  afterward  to 
dim  their  glory.  We  soon,  however,  recovered  from 
the  confusion,  but  with  diminished  numbers.  I 
know  that  for  a  part  of  the  time  I  filled  the  posi 
tions  of  7,  5,  and  2  at  my  gun,  until  a  gallant  little 
lieutenant  named  Day,  of  some  general's  staff,  re 
lieved  me  of  part  of  the  work.  My  brother  John, 
working  at  the  gun  next  to  mine,  received  a  painful 
shell-wound  in  the  side  and  had  to  leave  the  field. 
His  place  was  supplied  by  Doran,  an  Irishman,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  Doran's  arm  was  shattered  by  a 
shell,  causing  him  to  cry  out  most  lustily.  My 
brother  David,  shortly  after  this,  was  disabled  by 
a  blow  on  his  arm,  and,  at  my  solicitation,  left  the 
field. 

I  would  suggest  to  any  young  man  when  enlist 
ing,  to  select  a  company  in  which  he  has  no  near 
kindred.  The  concern  as  to  one's  own  person  af 
fords  sufficient  entertainment,  without  being  kept 
in  suspense  as  to  who  went  down  when  a  shell  ex 
plodes  in  proximity  to  another  member  of  the 
family. 

John  Fuller,  driver  at  the  piece  next  on  my  right, 
was  crouched  clown  on  his  knees,  with  his  head 
leaning  forward,  holding  his  horses.  Seeing  a 
large  shell  descending  directly  toward  him,  I  called 
to  him  to  look  out !  When  he  raised  his  head,  this 
shell  was  within  five  feet  of  him  and  grazed  his 
back  before  entering  the  ground  close  behind  him. 
He  was  severely  shocked,  and  for  some  davs  unfit 


92       THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

for  duty.  At  the  first  battle  of  Fredericksburg, 
less  than  a  year  after  this,  while  holding  his  horses 
and  kneeling  in  the  same  posture,  a  shell  descend 
ing  in  like  manner  struck  him  square  on  his  head 
and  passed  down  through  the  length  of  his  body.  A 
month  after  the  battle  I  saw  all  that  was  left  of  his 
cap — the  morocco  vizor — lying  on  the  ground 
where  he  was  killed. 

Behind  us,  scattered  over  the  wheat-field,  were 
a  number  of  loose  artillery  horses  from  the  batteries 
that  had  been  knocked  out.  Taking  advantage  of 
the  opportunity  to  get  a  meal,  one  of  these  stood 
eating  quietly  at  a  shock  of  wheat,  when  another 
horse  came  galloping  toward  him  from  the  woods. 
When  within  about  thirty  yards  of  the  animal  feed 
ing,  a  shell  burst  between  the  two.  The  approach 
ing  horse  instantly  wheeled,  and  was  flying  for  the 
woods  when  another  shell  burst  a  few  feet  in  front 
of  him,  turning  him  again  to  the  field  as  before; 
the  old  warrior  ate  away  at  his  shock,  perfectly  un 
concerned. 

The  firing  on  both  sides,  especially  on  ours,  was 
now  diminishing — and  soon  ceased.  In  this  en 
counter  ten  or  twelve  members  of  the  company  were 
wounded,  and  Frank  Herndon,  wheel  driver  at  my 
caisson,  was  killed.  After  remaining  quiet  for  a 
short  time  we  were  ordered  back,  and  again  found 
ourselves  at  the  cross-roads,  near  the  old  gate 
posts,  which  seemed  to  be  the  headquarters  of  Gen 
erals  Lee,  Jackson  and  D.  H.  Hill. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON       93 

John  Brown,  one  of  our  company  who  had  been 
detailed  to  care  for  the  wounded,  had  taken  a  seat 
behind  a  large  oak-tree  in  the  edge  of  the  woods 
near  us.  A  thirty-two-pound  shot  struck  the  tree, 
and,  passing  through  the  center  of  it,  took  Brown's 
head  entirely  off.  We  spent  several  hours  standing 
in  the  road,  which  was  filled  with  artillery,  and  our 
generals  were  evidently  at  their  wits'  ends.  To 
ward  evening  we  moved  farther  back  into  the 
woods,  where  many  regiments  of  our  infantry  were 
in  bivouac.  The  enemy  had  now  turned  their  fire 
in  this  direction.  Both  that  of  their  heavy  field- 
pieces  and  gunboats,  and  enormous  shells  and  solid 
shot,  were  constantly  crashing  through  the  timber, 
tearing  off  limbs  and  the  tops  of  trees,  which  some 
times  fell  among  the  troops,  maiming  and  killing 
men. 

After  sundown  a  charge  was  made  against  the 
enemy's  left,  which  was  repulsed  with  terrible  loss 
to  our  men.  After  this  the  enemy  continued  shell 
ing  the  wroods;  in  fact  their  whole  front,  until  ten 
o'clock  at  night.  Our  battery  had  moved  back  at 
least  two  miles  and  gone  into  park  in  a  field,  where, 
at  short  intervals,  a  large  gunboat  shell  would  burst 
over  us,  scattering  pieces  around,  while  the  main 
part  would  whirr  on,  it  seemed,  indefinitely. 

The  next  day,  the  enemy  having  abandoned  Mal- 
vern  Hill  during  the  night,  we  made  a  rapid  start 
in  pursuit  toward  Harrison's  Landing,  but  sud 
denly  came  to  a  halt  and  countermarched  to  a  place 


94      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

where  several  roads  crossed,  on  all  of  which  were 
columns  of  infantry  and  artillery.  During  the  re 
mainder  of  the  day  the  soldiers  gave  vent  to  their 
feelings  by  cheering  the  different  generals  as  they 
passed  to  and  fro,  Jackson  naturally  receiving  the 
lion's  share. 

McClellan's  army  being  now  under  cover  of  their 
gunboats,  and  gunboats  being  held  in  mortal  terror 
by  the  Confederates,  we  began  slowly  to  make  our 
way  out  of  this  loathsome  place,  a  place  which  I  felt 
should  be  cheerfully  given  up  to  the  Northerners, 
where  they  could  inhale  the  poisonous  vapors  of  the 
bogs,  and  prosecute  the  war  in  continuous  battle 
with  the  mosquitoes  and  vermin.  The  water  of  the 
few  sluggish  streams,  although  transparent,  was 
highly  colored  by  the  decaying  vegetable  matter  and 
the  roots  of  the  juniper.  For  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  was  now  out  of  sight  of  the  mountains.  I 
felt  utterly  lost,  and  found  myself  repeatedly  ris 
ing  on  tip-toe  and  gazing  for  a  view  of  them  in  the 
distance.  Being  very  much  worsted  physically  by 
the  campaign  and  malarial  atmosphere,  I  was  put 
on  the  sick-list,  and  given  permission  to  go  to  Rich 
mond  to  recuperate. 

My  entrance  into  the  city  contrasted  strikingly 
with  that  of  soldiers  I  had  read  of  after  a  series  of 
victories  in  battle.  The  portable  forge  belonging 
to  our  battery  needed  some  repairs,  which  could  be 
made  at  a  foundry  in  Richmond,  and,  as  no  other 
conveyance  was  available,  I  took  passage  on  it.  So 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       95 

I  entered  the  city,  the  first  I  had  ever  visited,  after 
dark,  seated  on  a  blacksmith-shop  drawn  by  four 
mules.  Not  having  received  my  eleven  dollars  a 
month  for  a  long  time,  I  could  not  pay  a  hotel-bill, 
so  I  climbed  the  fence  into  a  wagon-yard,  retired  to 
bed  in  a  horse-cart,  and  slept  soundly  till  daylight. 
That  morning  I  took  breakfast  with  my  cousin, 
Robert  Barton,  of  the  First  Virginia  Cavalry,  at  his 
boarding-house.  After  which,  having  gotten  a  sick 
furlough,  he  hurried  to  take  the  train,  to  go  to  his 
home,  and  left  me  feeling  very  forlorn.  Thinking 
that  I  could  fare  no  worse  in  camp  than  I  would  in 
the  midst  of  the  painful  surroundings  of  a  hospital, 
I  returned  in  the  afternoon  to  the  battery.  The 
arduous  service  undergone  during  the  past  three 
weeks,  or  rather  three  months,  had  left  the  men 
greatly  depleted  in  health  and  vigor.  Many  were 
seriously  sick,  and  those  still  on  duty  were  more  or 
less  run-down. 


CHAPTER  XI 

FROM      RICHMOND     TO     GORDONSVILLE BATTLE     OF 

CEDAR  RUN DEATH  OF  GENERAL  WINDER DE 
SERTERS    SHOT CROSS    THE    RAPPAHANNOCK 

AT  the  conclusion  of  this  sojourn  in  camp,  Jack 
son's  command  again  took  the  march  and  toiled 
along  the  line  of  the  Central  Railroad  toward  Gor- 
donsville.  I,  being  sick,  was  given  transportation 
by  rail  in  a  freight-car  with  a  mixture  of  troops.  A 
week  was  spent  in  Louisa  County,  in  the  celebrated 
Green  Spring  neighborhood,  where  we  fared  well. 
My  old  mess,  numbering  seventeen  when  I  joined 
it,  had  by  this  time  been  greatly  reduced.  My  bro 
ther  John  had  gotten  a  discharge  from  the  army, 
his  office  of  commissioner  of  chancery  exempting 
him.  He  re-enlisted  later  and  served  with  the  bat 
tery  until  Appomattox.  Gregory,  Frank  Preston 
and  Stuart  had  been  left  in  Winchester  in  the 
enemy's  lines  severely  wounded.  Singleton  had  been 
captured  at  Port  Republic,  and  others  were  off  on 
sick-leave.  My  bedfellow,  Walter  Packard,  had  con 
tracted  fever  in  the  Chickahominy  swamps,  from 
which  he  soon  after  died.  He  had  been  left  at  the 
house  of  a  friend  in  Hanover  County,  attended  by 
his  brother.  In  his  delirium  he  impatiently  rehearsed 
the  names  of  his  companions,  calling  the  roll  of  the 

96 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       97 

company  over  and  over.  From  Green  Spring  we 
marched  to  the  neighborhood  of  Gordons ville,  where 
we  remained  in  camp  until  about  the  fifth  or  sixth 
of  August. 

We  now  heard  reports  of  the  approach  of  the  re 
nowned  General  Pope  with  ' 'headquarters  in  the 
saddle,"  along  the  line  of  the  old  Orange  and  Alex 
andria  Railroad.  On  August  7,  we  moved  out  of 
camp,  going  in  his  direction.  On  the  third  clay's 
march,  being  too  unwell  to  foot  it,  I  was  riding  in 
the  ambulance.  About  noon  indications  in  front 
showred  that  a  battle  was  at  hand.  I  was  excused 
from  duty,  but  was  asked  by  the  captain  if  I  would 
assist  in  caring  for  the  wounded.  This  I  declined 
to  do.  About  this  time  the  battery  was  ordered  for 
ward,  and,  seeing  my  gun  start  off  at  a  trot,  I 
mounted  and  rode  in  with  it.  We  had  a  long  hill 
to  descend,  from  the  top  of  which  could  be  seen  and 
heard  the  cannonading  in  front.  Then,  entering 
an  extensive  body  of  woods,  we  passed  by  the  bod 
ies  of  four  infantrymen  lying  side  by  side,  having 
just  been  killed  by  a  bursting  shell. 

We  took  position  in  the  road  near  the  corner  of 
an  open  field  with  our  two  Parrott  guns  and  one 
gun  of  Carpenter's  battery,  en  echelon,  with  each 
gun's  horses  and  limber  off  on  its  left  among  the 
trees.  Both  Capt.  Joe  Carpenter  and  his  brother, 
John,  who  wras  his  first  lieutenant,  were  with  this 
gun,  as  was  their  custom  when  any  one  of  their 
guns  went  into  action.  We  soon  let  the  enemy 


98      THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

know  where  we  were,  and  they  replied  promptly, 
getting  our  range  in  a  few  rounds. 

General  Winder,  commander  of  our  brigade,  dis 
mounted,  and,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  had  taken  his 
stand  a  few  paces  to  the  left  of  my  gun  and  with  his 
field-glass  was  intently  observing  the  progress  of 
the  battle.  We  had  been  engaged  less  than  fifteen 
minutes  when  Captain  Carpenter  was  struck  in  the 
head  by  a  piece  of  shell,  from  which,  after  linger 
ing  a  few  weeks,  he  died.  Between  my  gun  and 
limber,  where  General  Winder  stood,  was  a  con 
stant  stream  of  shells  tearing  through  the  trees  and 
bursting  close  by.  While  the  enemy's  guns  were 
changing  their  position  he  gave  some  directions, 
which  we  could  not  hear  for  the  surrounding  noise. 
I,  being  nearest,  turned  and,  walking  toward  him, 
asked  what  he  had  said.  As  he  put  his  hand  to  his 
mouth  to  repeat  the  remark,  a  shell  passed  through 
his  side  and  arm,  tearing  them  fearfully.  He  fell 
straight  back  at  full  length,  and  lay  quivering  on 
the  ground.  He  had  issued  strict  orders  that  morn 
ing  that  no  one,  except  those  detailed  for  the  pur 
pose,  should  leave  his  post  to  carry  off  the  wounded, 
in  obedience  to  which  I  turned  to  the  gun  and  went 
to  work.  He  was  soon  carried  off,  however,  and 
died  a  few  hours  later. 

The  next  man  struck  was  Major  Snowden  An 
drews,  afterward  colonel  of  artillery.  While  stand 
ing  near  by  us  a  shell  burst  as  it  passed  him,  tearing 
his  clothes  and  wounding  him  severely.  Though 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON       99 

drawn  to  a  stooping  posture,  he  lived  many  years. 
Next  I  saw  a  ricocheting  shell  strike  Captain  Cas- 
kie,  of  Richmond,  Virginia,  on  his  seat,  which 
knocked  him  eight  or  ten  feet  and  his  red  cap  some 
feet  farther.  He  did  not  get  straightened  up  until 
he  had  overtaken  his  cap  on  the  opposite  side  of 
some  bushes,  through  which  they  had  both  been  pro 
pelled.  Lieutenant  Graham,  of  our  battery,  also 
received  a  painful,  though  not  serious,  wound  be 
fore  the  day  was  over.  This  proved  to  be  a  very 
dangerous  place  for  officers,  but  not  a  private  sol 
dier  was  touched. 

By  frequent  firing  during  the  campaign  the  vent 
of  my  gun  had  been  burned  to  several  times  its 
proper  size,  so  that  at  each  discharge  an  excess  of 
smoke  gushed  from  it.  After  the  captain's  atten 
tion  was  called  to  it,  it  happened  that  a  tree  in  front, 
but  somewhat  out  of  line,  was  cut  off  by  a  Federal 
shell  just  as  our  gun  fired.  Supposing  the  defect 
had  caused  a  wild  shot,  we  were  ordered  to  take  the 
gun  to  the  rear,  the  other  gun  soon  following.  We 
got  away  at  a  fortunate  time,  as  the  Second  Brigade 
of  Jackson's  division  was  flanked  by  the  enemy  and 
driven  over  the  place  a  few  minutes  later.  One 
company  in  the  Twenty-first  Virginia  Regiment  lost, 
in  a  few  minutes,  seventeen  men  killed,  besides  those 
wounded.  The  flankers,  however,  were  soon  at 
tacked  by  fresh  troops,  who  drove  them  back  and 
took  a  large  number  of  prisoners,  who  walked  and 
looked,  as  they  passed,  as  if  they  had  done  their 


100    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

best  and  had  nothing  of  which  to  be  ashamed.  By 
nightfall  the  whole  of  Pope's  army  had  been  driven 
back,  and  we  held  the  entire  battlefield.  This  battle 
was  called  Cedar  Run  by  the  Confederates,  and 
Slaughter's  Mountain  by  the  Federals. 

On  the  following  day  we  retraced  our  steps  and 
occupied  an  excellent  camping-ground  near  Gor- 
donsville.  Shortly  after  our  arrival,  my  brother 
David,  who  had  been  absent  on  sick-leave,  returned 
from  home,  bringing  a  large  mess-chest  of  delicious 
edibles,  which  we  enjoyed  immensely,  having  Wil 
lie  Preston,  from  Lexington,  who  had  just  joined 
the  College  company,  to  dine  with  us.  From  a 
nearby  cornfield  we  managed  to  supply  ourselves 
with  roasting  ears,  and  the  number  a  young  Con 
federate  could  consume  in  a  day  would  have  been 
ample  rations  for  a  horse. 

While  here  we  had  visits  from  some  of  our 
former  messmates.  One  of  them,  Frank  Singleton, 
after  being  captured  at  Port  Republic  had  been 
taken  to  Fort  Warren,  where  were  in  confinement 
as  prisoners  members  of  the  Maryland  legislature, 
Generals  Pillow  and  Buckner,  and  others  captured 
at  Fort  Donelson.  Singleton  gave  glowing  accounts 
of  the  "to-do"  that  was  made  over  him,  he  being 
the  only  representative  from  the  army  of  Stonewall, 
whose  fame  was  now  filling  the  world.  His  pres 
ence  even  became  known  outside  of  prison-walls, 
and  brought  substantial  tokens  of  esteem  and  sym 
pathy. 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON     101 

Gregory,  who  we  supposed  had  received  his  death- 
wound  at  Winchester  in  May,  after  escaping  into 
our  lines  spent  a  day  or  two  with  us.  Both,  how 
ever,  having  gotten  discharges,  left  us — Singleton 
to  go  to  Kentucky,  his  native  State,  to  raise  a  com 
pany  of  cavalry  under  Morgan,  and  Gregory  to  be 
come  captain  of  ordnance. 

An  extensive  move  was  evidently  now  on  foot, 
and  about  August  17th  it  began,  proving  to  be  by 
far  the  most  eventful  of  that  eventful  year.  On 
reaching  the  Rapidan,  a  few  miles  distant,  we  were 
ordered  to  leave  all  baggage  we  could  not  carry  on 
our  backs,  and  in  that  August  weather  we  chose  to 
make  our  burdens  light.  This  was  the  last  we  saw 
of  our  baggage,  as  it  was  plundered  and  stolen  by 
camp-followers  and  shirkers  who  stayed  behind. 

Having  recuperated  somewhat  during  my  stay 
in  camp  I  had  set  out,  with  the  battery,  for  the 
march,  but  a  few  days  of  hot  sun  soon  weakened  me 
again,  so  I  had  to  be  excused  from  duty,  and  remain 
with  the  wagons.  Part  of  a  day  with  them  was 
sufficient,  so  I  returned  to  the  battery,  sick  or  well. 
Soon  after  my  return,  about  sundown,  Arthur  Rob 
inson,  of  Baltimore,  whom  I  had  regarded  as  a  sort 
of  dude,  brought  me  a  cup  of  delicious  tea  and  sev 
eral  lumps  of  cut  loaf-sugar.  Cut  loaf-sugar!  What 
associations  it  awakened  and  how  kindly  I  felt  to 
ward  the  donor  ever  afterward !  As  I  dropped  each 
lump  into  the  tea  I  could  sympathize  with  an  old 
lady  in  Rockbridge  County,  who  eyed  a  lump  of  it 


1Q2     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

lovingly  and  said,  "Before  the  war  I  used  to  buy 
that  by  the  pound." 

On  the  following  morning,  August  18,  Gen. 
J.  E.  B.  Stuart  came  dashing  into  our  camp  bare 
headed  and,  for  him,  very  much  excited.  He  had 
just  narrowly  escaped  capture  by  a  scouting-party 
of  Federal  cavalry  at  a  house  near  Verdiersville, 
where  he  had  passed  the  night.  Leaving  his  hat,  he 
mounted  and  leaped  the  fence  with  his  horse.  His 
adjutant,  however,  Major  Fitzhugh,  in  possession 
of  General  Lee's  instructions  to  General  Stuart,  was 
captured,  and  thus  General  Pope  informed  of  the 
plan  of  campaign.  Four  days  later  General  Stuart, 
with  a  large  force  of  cavalry,  having  passed  to  the 
rear  of  the  Federal  army,  captured,  at  Catlett's  Sta 
tion,  General  Pope's  headquarters  wagon  with  his 
official  papers  and  personal  effects.  As  his  plan  of 
campaign  was  to  be  governed  by  General  Lee's 
movements,  these  papers  were  not  very  reliable 
guides. 

Our  stay  in  this  bivouac  was  only  thirty-six 
hours  in  duration,  but  another  scene  witnessed  in 
the  afternoon  leaves  an  indelible  impression.  To 
escape  the  arduous  service  to  which  we  had  for 
some  time  been  subjected,  a  few,  probably  eight  or 
ten  men,  of  Jackson's  old  division  had  deserted.  Of 
these,  three  had  been  caught,  one  of  whom  was  a 
member  of  the  Stonewall  Brigade,  and  they  were 
sentenced  by  court-martial  to  be  shot.  As  a  warn 
ing  to  others,  the  whole  division  was  mustered  out 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON     103 

to  witness  the  painfully  solemn  spectacle.  After 
marching  in  column  through  intervening  woods, 
with  bands  playing  the  dead  march,  we  entered  an 
extensive  field.  Here  the  three  men,  blindfolded, 
were  directed  to  kneel  in  front  of  their  open  graves, 
and  a  platoon  of  twelve  or  fifteen  men,  half  of  them 
with  their  muskets  loaded  with  ball,  and  half  with 
blank  cartridges  (so  that  no  man  would  feel  that  he 
had  fired  a  fatal  shot),  at  the  word  "Fire!"  emptied 
their  guns  at  close  range.  Then  the  whole  division 
marched  by  within  a  few  steps  to  view  their  lifeless 
bodies. 

Jackson's  object  now  was  to  cross  the  Rappa- 
hannock,  trying  first  one  ford  and  then  another. 
We  spent  most  of  the  following  day  galloping  to 
and  fro,  firing  and  being  fired  at.  At  one  ford  my 
gun  crossed  the  river,  but,  as  no  support  followed 
it,  although  the  rest  of  our  battery  and  Brocken- 
brough's  Maryland  Battery  were  close  by,  we  soon 
recrossed.  Rain  during  the  afternoon  and  night 
made  the  river  past  fording,  catching  Early's  bri 
gade,  which  had  crossed  further  up-stream,  on  the 
enemy's  side.  He  was  not  pressed,  however,  and  by 
the  next  afternoon  the  whole  of  Jackson's  command 
had  crossed  the  stream  by  the  fords  nearer  its  source, 
at  Hinson's  mill.  Thence  we  traveled  northwest 
through  Little  Washington,  the  county-seat  of  Rap- 
pahannock.  Then  to  Flint  Hall,  at  the  base  of  the 
Blue  Ridge.  Then  turned  southeast  into  Fauquier 
County  and  through  Warrenton,  the  prettiest  town 


104     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

I  had  seen  since  leaving  the  Valley.  We  had  made 
an  extensive  detour,  and  were  no  longer  disturbed 
by  General  Pope,  who  possibly  thought  Jackson  was 
on  his  way  to  Ohio  or  New  York,  and  a  week  later 
no  doubt  regretted  that  one  of  those  distant  places 
had  not  been  his  destination. 

Before  reaching  Thoroughfare  Gap  we  had  the 
pleasure  of  a  visit  from  Mr.  Robert  Boiling,  or 
rather  found  him  waiting  on  the  roadside  to  see  his 
son,  of  our  mess,  having  driven  from  his  home  in 
the  neighborhood.  His  son  had  been  left  behind 
sick,  but  his  messmates  did  full  justice  to  the  bounti 
ful  supply  of  refreshments  brought  in  the  carriage 
for  him.  I  remember,  as  we  stood  regaling  our 
selves,  when  some  hungry  infantryman  would  fall 
out  of  ranks,  and  ask  to  purchase  a  "wee  bite,"  how 
delicately  we  would  endeavor  to  "shoo"  him  off, 
without  appearing  to  the  old  gentleman  as  the  nat 
ural  heirs  to  what  he  had  brought  for  his  boy. 


CHAPTER  XII 

CAPTURE  OF  RAILROAD  TRAINS  AT    MANASSAS  JUNC 
TION BATTLE     WITH     TAYLOR^S     NEW     JERSEY 

BRIGADE NIGHT    MARCH    BY    LIGHT    OF    BURN 
ING    CARS 

OUR  halts  and  opportunities  for  rest  had  been 
and  continued  to  be  few  and  of  short  duration,  trav 
eling  steadily  on  throughout  the  twenty-four  hours. 
It  has  been  many  years  since,  but  how  vividly  some 
scenes  are  recalled,  others  vague  and  the  order  of 
succession  forgotten.  After  passing  through  Thor 
oughfare  Gap  we  moved  on  toward  Manassas  Junc 
tion,  arriving  within  a  mile  or  two  of  the  place 
shortly  after  dawn,  when  we  came  upon  a  sleepy 
Federal  cavalryman  mounted  on  a  fine  young  horse. 
Lieutenant  Brown  took  him  and  his  arms  in  charge 
and  rode  the  horse  for  a  few  days,  but,  learning  that 
he  had  been  taken  from  a  farmer  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  returned  him  to  his  owner.  As  we  approached 
the  Junction  several  cannon-shots  warned  us  that 
some  force  of  the  enemy  was  there,  but  not  Gen 
eral  Pope,  as  we  had  left  him  many  miles  in  our 
rear. 

In  the  regiment  of  our  cavalry,  acting  as  a  van 
guard,  I  had  but  two  acquaintances — old  college- 
mates — and  these  were  the  only  two  members  of  the 

105 


106    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

command  I  met.  One  of  them  gave  me  a  loaf  of 
baker's  bread,  the  other  presented  me  with  a  hand 
ful  of  cigars,  and  they  both  informed  us  that  they 
had  made  a  big  capture,  which  we  would  soon  see. 
The  samples  they  had  brought  made  us  the  more 
anxious.  Arriving  in  sight  of  the  place,  we  saw  the 
tracks  of  both  railroads  closely  covered  for  half  a 
mile  with  the  cars  filled  with  army  supplies  of  every 
description.  The  artillery  that  had  been  firing  a 
short  time  before  opened  on  us  again,  while  we  were 
preparing  to  help  ourselves,  but  not  before  one  of 
my  messmates  had  secured  a  cup  of  molasses.  With 
the  help  of  this,  my  loaf  of  bread  was  soon  devoured 
and  with  a  relish  contrasting  very  favorably  with 
my  sudden  loss  of  appetite  for  the  beans  at  Cedar 
Creek  a  few  months  before.  On  this  occasion  we 
managed  to  appease  our  hunger  with  very  little  in 
terruption  from  the  flying  shells.  The  firing,  how 
ever,  was  at  long  range  and  soon  ceased,  and  we 
resumed  the  march,  saddened  to  part  with  so  rich 
a  booty  and  the  opportunity  to  fill  our  stomachs  and 
empty  haversacks. 

As  we  moved  quietly  along  with  General  Jack 
son  and  one  or  two  of  his  staff  riding  at  the  front 
of  the  battery,  there  suddenly  appeared,  about  a  mile 
ahead  of  us,  a  line  of  bayonets  glistening  in  the  sun 
light.  As  we  halted  I  heard  General  Jackson  and 
those  about  him  questioning  each  other  and  specu 
lating  as  to  what  troops  they  could  be,  whether 
friend  or  foe.  Their  bayonets  were  evidently  too 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON     107 

bright  for  our  war-worn  weapons,  and  the  direction 
from  which  they  came  and,  a  little  later,  the  color 
of  their  uniforms  being  distinguishable,  no  longer 
left  room  for  doubt.  It  proved  to  be  a  brigade  of 
New  Jersey  infantry  commanded  by  General  Tay 
lor,  who  had  just  arrived  by  rail  from  Alexandria. 
Rodes's  division  was  on  our  left  and  not  three  hun 
dred  yards  distant.  As  the  enemy  advanced,  Jack 
son  ordered  Rodes  to  halt.  The  Federal  brigade 
came  up  on  our  right  about  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  yards  from  us,  marching  by  companies  in 
column. 

Jackson  ordered  us  to  fire  on  them  with  canister, 
which  we  did,  and  very  rapidly,  as  they  passed. 
Then,  limbering  up,  we  galloped  again  to  their  flank 
and  repeated  the  operation ;  meanwhile,  one  of  our 
batteries  immediately  in  their  front  firing  at  them 
with  shells.  Jackson,  who  accompanied  us,  then 
drew  a  white  handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  and, 
waving  it  up  and  down,  ordered  them  to  surrender, 
in  response  to  which  one  of  them  raised  his  gun  and 
fired  deliberately  at  him.  I  heard  the  Minie  as  it 
whistled  by  him.  After  limbering  up  our  guns  for 
the  third  time  to  keep  in  close  range,  I  turned  to  get 
my  blanket,  which  I  had  left  on  the  ground  while 
engaged,  and,  as  I  ran  to  overtake  the  guns,  found 
myself  between  Rodes's  line,  which  had  now  ad 
vanced,  and  the  Federals,  in  easy  range  of  each 
other.  I  expected,  of  course,  to  be  riddled  with 
bullets,  but  neither  side  fired  a  shot. 


108    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

The  Federals  moved  on  in  perfect  order,  then 
suddenly  broke  and  came  back  like  a  flock  of  sheep ; 
and,  most  singular  of  all,  Rodes's  division  was 
ordered  back  and  let  them  pass,  we  still  firing.  It 
was  a  fine  sample  of  a  sham  battle,  as  I  saw  none 
of  them  killed  and  heard  there  were  very  few  casual 
ties,  and  the  only  shot  they  fired  was  the  one  at  Gen 
eral  Jackson.  After  crossing  a  ravine  along  which 
ran  a  creek,  they  had  a  hill  to  ascend  which  kept 
them  still  in  full  view,  while  we  fired  at  them  with 
shells  and  solid  shot  as  they  streamed  along  the 
paths.  Maupin,  a  member  of  our  detachment, 
picked  up  a  canteen  of  whiskey  which  had  been 
thrown  aside  in  their  flight.  As  it  was  the  only 
liquid  to  which  we  had  access  on  that  hot  August 
day,  we  each  took  a  turn,  and  soon  undertook  to 
criticise  our  gunner's  bad  shooting,  telling  him 
among  other  things  that  if  he  would  aim  lower  he 
would  do  more  execution. 

After  the  enemy  had  disappeared  from  our  sight, 
and  the  battery  had  gone  into  park,  I  borrowed  Ser 
geant  Dick  Payne's  horse  to  ride  to  the  creek,  over 
which  the  enemy  had  retreated,  for  a  canteen  of 
water.  When  within  a  few  steps  of  the  branch,  I 
passed  two  artillerymen  from  another  battery  on 
foot,  who  were  on  the  same  errand,  but  none  of  us 
armed.  We  saw  a  Yankee  infantryman  a  short 
distance  off,  hurrying  along  with  gun  on  shoulder. 
We  called  to  him  to  surrender,  and,  as  I  rode  to  get 
his  gun,  another  one  following  came  in  sight.  When 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON     109 

I  confronted  him  and  ordered  him  to  throw  down 
his  gun,  he  promptly  obeyed.  The  gun,  a  brand- 
new  one,  wras  loaded,  showing  a  bright  cap  under 
the  hammer.  The  man  was  a  German,  and  tried 
hard,  in  broken  English,  to  explain,  either  how  he 
had  fallen  behind,  or  to  apologize  for  coming  to 
fight  us — I  could  not  tell  which. 

We  now  had  full  and  undisturbed  possession  of 
Manassas  Junction  and  of  the  long  trains  of  cap 
tured  cars,  through  the  doors  and  openings  of  which 
could  be  seen  the  United  States  army  supplies  of  all 
kinds  and  of  the  best  quality.  On  a  flat  car  there 
stood  two  new  pieces  of  artillery  made  of  a  bronze- 
colored  metal,  and  of  a  different  style  from  any  we 
had  yet  seen.  In  our  last  battle,  that  of  Slaughter's 
Mountain,  we  had  noticed,  for  the  first  time,  a  sing 
ular  noise  made  by  some  of  the  shells  fired  at  us, 
and  quite  like  the  shrill  note  of  a  tree-frog  on  a  big 
scale.  Since  then  we  had  sometimes  speculated  as 
to  what  new  engine  of  war  we  had  to  contend  with. 
Here  it  was,  and  known  as  the  three-inch  rifled  gun, 
a  most  accurate  shooter,  and  later  on  much  used  by 
both  Federals  and  Confederates. 

In  view  of  the  fact  that  almost  all  of  the  field 
artillery  used  by  the  Confederates  was  manufact 
ured  in  the  North,  a  supply  for  both  armies  seemed 
to  have  been  wisely  provided  in  the  number  they 
turned  out.  Here  we  spent  the  remainder  of  the 
day,  but  not  being  allowed  to  plunder  the  cars  did 
not  have  the  satisfaction  of  replacing  our  worn-out 


110    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

garments  with  the  new  ones  in  sight.  We  were  very 
willing  to  don  the  blue  uniforms,  but  General  Jack 
son  thought  otherwise.  What  we  got  to  eat  was 
also  disappointing,  and  not  of  a  kind  to  invigorate, 
consisting,  as  it  did,  of  hard-tack,  pickled  oysters, 
and  canned  stuff  generally. 

Darkness  had  scarcely  fallen  before  we  were 
again  on  the  march,  and  before  two  miles  had  been 
traveled  the  surrounding  country  was  illuminated 
by  the  blazing  cars  and  their  contents,  fired  to  pre 
vent  their  falling  again  into  the  hands  of  their  origi 
nal  owners.  The  entire  night  was  spent  marching 
through  woods  and  fields,  but  in  what  direction  we 
had  no  idea.  Notwithstanding  the  strict  orders  to 
the  contrary,  two  of  our  boys — Billy  Bumpas  and 
John  Gibbs — had  procured  from  a  car  about  half  a 
bushel  of  nice  white  sugar,  put  it  in  a  sack-bag,  and 
tied  it  securely,  they  thought,  to  the  axle  of  a  cais 
son.  During  the  night  either  the  bag  stretched  or 
the  string  slipped,  letting  a  corner  drag  on  the 
ground,  which  soon  wore  a  hole.  When  daylight 
broke,  the  first  thing  that  met  their  eager  gaze  was 
an  empty  bag  dangling  in  the  breeze  and  visions  of 
a  trail  of  white  sugar  mingling  with  the  dust  miles 
behind.  Many  times  afterward,  in  winter  quarters 
or  during  apple-dumpling  season,  have  I  heard  them 
lament  the  loss  of  that  sweetening. 

There  are  various  scenes  and  incidents  on  the 
battlefield,  in  camp,  and  on  the  march  which  leave 
an  indelible  impression.  Of  these,  among  the  most 


D.  GARDINER  TYLER 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      111 

vivid  to  me  is  that  of  a  column  of  men  and  horses 
at  dawn  of  day,  after  having  marched  throughout 
the  night.  The  weary  animals,  with  heads  hanging 
and  gaunt  sides,  put  their  feet  to  the  ground  as 
softly  as  if  fearing  to  arouse  their  drowsy  mates  or 
give  themselves  a  jar.  A  man  looks  some  years 
older  than  on  the  preceding  day,  and  his  haggard 
face  as  if  it  had  been  unwashed  for  a  week.  Not 
yet  accustomed  to  the  light,  and  thinking  his  coun 
tenance  unobserved,  as  in  the  darkness,  he  makes 
no  effort  to  assume  an  expression  more  cheerful  than 
in  keeping  with  his  solemn  feelings,  and,  when 
spoken  to,  his  distressful  attempt  to  smile  serves  only 
to  emphasize  the  need  of  "sore  labor's  bath."  Van 
ity,  however,  seems  to  prevent  each  one  from  seeing 
in  his  neighbor's  visage  a  photograph  of  his  own. 
But,  with  an  hour  of  sunlight  and  a  halt  for  break 
fast  with  a  draught  of  rare  coffee,  lie  stands  a  new 
creature.  On  the  morning  after  our  departure  from 
Manassas  Junction,  having  marched  all  night,  we 
had  a  good  illustration  of  this. 

About  seven  o'clock  we  came  to  a  Federal  wagon 
which  had  upset  over  a  bank  and  was  lying,  bottom 
upward,  in  a  ditch  below  the  road.  Around  it  were 
boxes  and  packages  of  food,  desiccated  vegetables 
red  with  tomatoes  and  yellow  with  pumpkin.  Here 
a  timely  halt  was  called.  Across  the  ditch,  near 
w7here  we  wrent  into  park,  the  infantry  who  had  pre 
ceded  us  had  carried  from  the  overturned  wagon  a 
barrel  of  molasses  with  the  head  knocked  out.  Surg- 


112     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

ing  around  it  was  a  swarm  of  men  with  canteens, 
tin  cups,  and  frying-pans — anything  that  would  hold 
molasses.  As  each  vessel  was  filled  by  a  dip  into 
the  barrel  it  was  held  aloft,  to  prevent  its  being 
knocked  from  the  owner's  grasp  as  he  made  his  way 
out  through  the  struggling  mass ;  and  woe  be  to  him 
that  was  hatless!  as  the  stream  that  trickled  from 
above,  over  head  and  clothes,  left  him  in  a  sorry 
plight. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CIRCUITOUS    NIGHT    MARCH FIRST    DAY    OF    SECOND 

MAXASSAS ARRIVAL     OF     LOXGSTREET's     CORPS 

HERE  we  halted  long  enough  for  a  hurried  break 
fast  for  men  and  horses.  Sleep  did  not  seem  to  enter 
into  Jackson's  calculations,  or  time  was  regarded  as 
too  precious  to  be  allowed  for  it.  We  were  on  the 
move  again  by  noon  and  approaching  the  scene  of 
the  battle  of  July,  1861.  This  was  on  Thursday, 
August  26,  1862,  and  a  battle  was  evidently  to  open 
at  any  moment.  In  the  absence  of  Henry,  our  gun 
ner,  who  was  sick  and  oft"  duty,  I  was  appointed  to 
fill  his  place.  And  it  was  one  of  the  few  occasions, 
most  probably  the  only  one  during  the  war,  that  I 
felt  the  slightest  real  desire  to  exclaim,  with  the  Cor 
poral  at  Waterloo,  "Let  the  battle  begin!"  About 
two  P.  M.  we  went  into  position,  but,  before  firing 
a  shot,  suddenly  moved  off,  and,  marching  almost  in 
a  semi-circle,  came  up  in  the  rear  of  the  infantry, 
who  were  now  hotly  engaged.  This  was  the  begin 
ning  of  the  second  battle  of  Manassas,  during  the 
first  two  days  of  which,  and  the  day  preceding, 
Jackson's  command  was  in  great  suspense,  and, 
with  a  wide-awake  and  active  foe,  would  have  been 
in  great  jeopardy.  He  was  entirely  in  the  rear  of 

113 


114     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

the  Federal  army,  with  only  his  own  corps,  while 
Longstreet  had  not  yet  passed  through  Thorough 
fare  Gap,  a  narrow  defile  miles  away.  The  rapid 
and  steady  roll  of  the  musketry,  however,  indicated 
that  there  was  no  lack  of  confidence  on  the  part  of 
his  men,  though  the  line  of  battle  had  changed  front 
and  was  now  facing  in  the  opposite  direction  from 
the  one  held  a  few  hours  before.  Moving  through 
a  body  of  woods  toward  the  firing-line  we  soon  be 
gan  meeting  and  passing  the  stream  of  wounded 
men  making  their  way  to  the  rear.  And  here  our 
attention  was  again  called  to  a  singular  and  unac 
countable  fact,  which  was  noticed  and  remarked  re 
peatedly  throughout  the  wTar.  It  was  that  in  one 
battle  the  large  majority  of  the  less  serious  wounds 
received  were  in  the  same  portion  of  the  body.  In 
this  case,  fully  three-fourths  of  the  men  we  met 
were  wounded  in  the  left  hand ;  in  another  battle 
the  same  proportion  were  wounded  in  the  right 
hand ;  while  in  another  the  head  was  the  attractive 
mark  for  flying  bullets,  and  so  on.  I  venture  the 
assertion  that  every  old  soldier  whose  attention  is 
called  to  it  will  verify  the  statement. 

The  battle  was  of  about  two  hours  duration,  and 
by  sundown  the  firing  had  entirely  ceased,  the  enemy 
being  driven  from  the  field,  leaving  their  dead  and 
wounded.  The  infantry  of  the  Stonewall  Brigade 
had  been  in  the  thickest  of  it  all  and  had  suffered 
severe  loss. 

Willie  Preston,  of  the  College  company,  less  than 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON     115 

eighteen  years  of  age,  a  most  attractive  and  promis 
ing  youth,  received  a  mortal  wound.  His  dying 
messages  were  committed  to  Hugh  White,  the  cap 
tain  of  his  company,  who,  two  days  later,  was  him 
self  instantly  killed.  On  the  ground  where  some  of 
the  heaviest  fighting  took  place  there  stood  a  neat 
log  house,  the  home  of  a  farmer's  family.  From  it 
they  had,  of  course,  hurriedly  fled,  leaving  their  cow 
and  a  half-grown  colt  in  the  yard.  Both  of  these 
were  killed.  I  saw  also,  on  this  field,  a  dead  rabbit 
and  a  dead  field-lark — innocent  victims  of  man's 
brutality ! 

A  quiet  night  followed,  and,  except  for  those  of 
us  who  were  on  guard,  the  first  unbroken  rest  we 
had  had  for  almost  a  week.  Next  morning,  after 
breakfasting  leisurely,  we  went  into  position  oppo 
site  the  enemy,  who  occupied  a  long  range  of  hills 
too  distant  for  serious  damage.  But,  after  we  had 
shelled  each  other  for  half  an  hour,  one  of  our  in 
fantry  regiments  emerged  from  the  woods  a  short 
distance  to  our  right  and  stood  in  line  of  battle  most 
needlessly  exposed.  In  less  than  five  minutes  a  shell 
burst  among  them,  killing  and  wounding  eleven  men. 
This  over,  we  moved  to  a  haystack  nearby,  where 
our  horses  had  more  than  one  refreshing  feed  dur 
ing  lulls  in  the  battle.  It  seemed,  also,  an  attractive 
place  for  General  Jackson,  as  he  was  seldom  far 
from  it  till  the  close  of  the  battle  on  the  following 
day. 

An  hour  later,  while  engaged  in  another  artillery 


116    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

encounter,  our  detachment  received  a  very  peremp 
tory  and  officious  order  from  Major  Shoemaker, 
commanding  the  artillery  of  the  division.  My 
friend  and  former  messmate,  W.  G.  Williamson, 
now  a  lieutenant  of  engineers,  having  no  duty  in 
that  line  to  perform,  had  hunted  us  up,  and,  with 
his  innate  gallantry,  was  serving  as  a  cannoneer  at 
the  gun.  Offended  at  Shoemaker's  insolent  and 
ostentatious  manner,  we  answered  him  as  he  de 
served.  Furious  at  such  impudence  and  insubordi 
nation,  he  was  almost  ready  to  lop  our  heads  off 
with  his  drawn  sword,  when  Williamson  informed 
him  that  he  was  a  commissioned  officer  and  would 
see  him  at  the  devil  before  he  would  submit  to  such 
uncalled-for  interference. 

"If  you  are  a  commissioned  officer,"  Shoemaker 
replied,  "why  are  you  here,  working  at  a  gun?" 

"Because  I  had  not  been  assigned  to  other  duty," 
was  Williamson's  reply,  "and  I  chose  to  come  back, 
for  the  time  being,  with  my  old  battery." 

"Then  I  order  you  under  arrest  for  your  dis 
respect  to  a  superior  officer !"  said  Shoemaker. 

The  case  was  promptly  reported  to  General  Jack 
son,  and  Williamson  as  promptly  released.  The 
bombastic  major  had  little  idea  that  among  the  men 
he  was  so  uselessly  reprimanding  was  a  son  of  Gen 
eral  Lee,  as  well  as  Lieutenant  Williamson,  who 
was  a  nephew  of  Gen.  Dick  Garnett,  who  was  later 
killed  in  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg.  This  epi 
sode  over,  we  again  drove  to  the  haystack. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      117 

These  repeated  advances  and  attacks  made  by 
the  enemy's  artillery  plainly  showed  that  they  re 
alized  that  our  situation  was  a  hazardous  one,  of 
which  we,  too,  were  fully  aware,  and  unless  Long- 
street  should  soon  show  up  we  felt  that  the  whole 
of  Pope's  army  would  be  upon  us.  While  quietly 
awaiting  developments,  we  heard  the  sound  of  a 
horse's  hoofs,  and,  as  a  courier  galloped  up  to  Gen 
eral  Jackson,  to  announce  Longstreet's  approach, 
the  cloud  of  red  dust  raised  by  his  vanguard  in  the 
direction  of  Thoroughfare  Gap  assured  us  that  he 
would  soon  be  at  hand.  Before  he  reached  the  field, 
however,  and  while  we  were  enjoying  the  sense  of 
relief  at  his  coming,  one  of  the  enemy's  batteries 
had  quietly  and  unobserved  managed  to  get  into 
one  of  the  positions  occupied  by  our  battery  during 
the  morning.  Their  first  volley,  coming  from  such 
an  unexpected  quarter,  created  a  great  commotion. 
Instantly  we  galloped  to  their  front  and  unlimberecl 
our  guns  at  close  range.  Other  of  our  batteries 
fired  a  few  shots,  but  soon  ceased,  all  seeming  in 
tent  on  witnessing  a  duel  between  the  two  batteries 
of  four  guns  each.  Their  position  was  the  more 
favorable,  as  their  limbers  and  caissons  were  behind 
the  crest  of  the  hill,  while  we  were  on  level  ground 
with  ours  fully  exposed.  Each  man  worked  as  if 
success  depended  on  his  individual  exertions,  while 
Captain  Poague  and  Lieutenant  Graham  galloped 
back  and  forth  among  the  guns,  urging  us  to  our 
best  efforts.  Our  antagonists  got  our  range  at  once. 


118    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

and,  with  their  twelve-pound  Napoleon  guns,  poured 
in  a  raking  fire.  One  shell  I  noticed  particularly  as 
it  burst,  and  waited  a  moment  to  observe  its  effects 
as  the  fragments  tore  by.  One  of  them  struck  Cap 
tain  Poague's  horse  near  the  middle  of  the  hip,  tear 
ing  an  ugly  hole,  from  which  there  spurted  a  stream 
of  blood  the  size  of  a  man's  wrist.  To  dismount 
before  his  horse  fell  required  quick  work,  but  the 
captain  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  Another  shell 
robbed  Henry  Boteler  of  the  seat  of  his  trousers, 
but  caused  the  shedding  of  no  blood,  and  his  narrow 
escape  the  shedding  of  no  tears,  although  the  loss 
was  a  serious  one.  Eugene  Alexander,  of  Moore- 
field,  had  his  thigh-bone  broken  and  was  incapaci 
tated  for  service.  Sergeant  Henry  Payne,  a  splen 
did  man  and  an  accomplished  scholar,  was  struck 
by  a  solid  shot  just  below  the  knee  and  his  leg  left 
hanging  by  shreds  of  flesh.  An  hour  later,  when 
being  lifted  into  an  ambulance,  I  heard  him  ask  if 
his  leg  could  not  be  saved,  but  in  another  hour  he 
was  dead. 

After  an  hour  of  spirited  work,  our  antagonists 
limbered  up  and  hurried  off,  leaving  us  victors  in 
the  contest.  Lieutenant  Baxter  McCorkle  galloped 
over  to  the  place  to  see  what  execution  we  had  done, 
and  found  several  dead  men,  as  many  or  more  dead 
horses,  and  one  of  their  caissons  as  evidences  of  good 
aim;  and  brought  back  with  him  a  fine  army-pistol 
left  in  the  caisson.  When  the  affair  was  over,  I 
found  myself  exhausted  and  faint  from  overexer- 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      119 

tion  in  the  hot  sun.  Remembering  that  my  brother 
David  had  brought  along  a  canteen  of  vinegar,  got 
ten  in  the  big  capture  of  stores  a  few  days  before, 
and  thinking  a  swallow  of  it  would  revive  me,  I 
went  to  him  and  asked  him  to  get  it  for  me.  Be 
fore  I  was  done  speaking,  the  world  seemed  to  make 
a  sudden  revolution  and  turn  black  as  I  collapsed 
with  it.  My  brother,  thinking  I  was  shot,  hurried 
for  the  vinegar,  but  found  the  canteen,  which  hung 
at  the  rear  of  a  caisson,  entirely  empty;  it,  too,  hav 
ing  been  struck  by  a  piece  of  shell,  and  even  the 
contents  of  the  little  canteen  demanded  by  this  in 
satiable  plain,  whose  thirst  no  amount  of  blood 
seemed  able  to  quench. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  SECOND  BATTLE  OF  MANASSAS INCIDENTS  AND 

SCENES  ON  THE  BATTLEFIELD 

THESE  encounters  were  the  preludes  to  the  great 
battle  for  which  both  sides  were  preparing,  almost 
two  days  having  already  been  spent  in  maneuvering 
and  feeling  each  other's  lines.  The  afternoon,  how 
ever,  passed  quietly  with  no  further  collisions 
worthy  of  mention.  The  following  day,  Saturday, 
was  full  of  excitement.  It  was  the  third  and  last 
of  this  protracted  battle,  and  the  last  for  many  a 
brave  soldier  in  both  armies. 

The  shifting  of  troops  began  early,  our  battery 
changing  position  several  times  during  the  forenoon. 
Neither  army  had  buried  its  dead  of  the  first  day's 
battle.  We  held  the  ground  on  which  were  strewn 
the  corpses  of  both  Blue  and  Gray,  in  some  places 
lying  side  by  side.  The  hot  August  sun  had  parched 
the  grass  to  a  crisp,  and  it  was  frequently  ignited 
by  bursting  shells.  In  this  way  the  clothes  of  the 
dead  were  sometimes  burned  off,  and  the  bodies  par 
tially  roasted !  Such  spectacles  made  little  or  no  im 
pression  at  the  time,  and  we  moved  to  and  fro  over 
the  field,  scarcely  heeding  them. 

About  two  o'clock  we  were  ordered  some  distance 
forward,  to  fire  on  a  battery  posted  on  a  low  ridge 

120 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     121 

near  a  piece  of  woods.  By  skirting  along  a  body  of 
woods  on  our  left,  and  screened  by  it,  we  came  out 
in  full  view  of  this  battery  and  on  its  right  flank. 
My  gun,  being  in  front  and  the  first  seen  by  them, 
attracted  their  whole  fire;  but  most  of  their  shells 
passed  over  our  heads  and  burst  among  the  guns  in 
our  rear  and  among  the  trees.  None  of  us  was  hurt, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  all  four  of  our  guns  were  un- 
limbered  and  opened  on  them  most  vigorously.  In 
five  or  six  rounds  their  guns  ceased  firing  and  were 
drawn  by  hand  from  the  crest  of  the  ridge  entirely 
out  of  view  and  range. 

As  we  stood  by  our  guns,  highly  gratified  with 
our  prowess,  General  Jackson  came  riding  up  to  the 
first  detachment  and  said,  ''That  was  handsomely 
done,  very  handsomely  done,"  then  passed  on  to  the 
other  detachments  and  to  each  one  addressed  some 
complimentary  remark.  In  half  an  hour  we  were 
again  at  our  rendezvous,  the  haystack,  and  he  at  his 
headquarters,  and  all  quiet.  But  this  time  it  was 
the  calm  before  the  real  storm. 

Across  the  open  plains  on  which  we  stood,  and 
some  three  hundred  yards  distant  from  us,  was  an 
extensive  body  of  woods  in  which  Longstreet's  corps 
had  quietly  formed  in  line  of  battle.  In  front  of 
this  was  open  ground,  sloping  gently  for  one- fourth 
of  a  mile,  and  on  its  crest  the  enemy's  line  of  battle. 
To  our  left  another  large  body  of  woods  extended 
toward  our  front,  and  concealed  the  movements  of 
both  armies  from  view  in  that  direction.  General 


122     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

Jackson  had  dismounted  from  his  horse  and  was 
sitting  on  the  rail-fence,  and  ours  and  one  or  two 
other  batteries  were  in  bivouac  close  by,  and  all  as 
calm  and  peaceful  as  if  the  armies  were  in  their  re 
spective  winter  quarters,  when  a  roar  and  crash  of 
musketry  that  was  almost  deafening  burst  forth  in 
the  woods  in  our  immediate  front,  and  a  shower  of 
Minie-bullets  whistled  through  the  air,  striking  here 
and  there  about  us.  Instantly  everything  was  astir, 
with  an  occasional  lamentation  or  cry  of  pain  from 
some  wounded  man.  General  Jackson  mounted  his 
horse  hurriedly.  The  fighting  soon  became  general 
throughout  the  lines,  in  portions  of  it  terrific.  Gen 
eral  Pope,  after  two  days  of  preparation,  had  ad 
vanced  his  lines  and  made  the  attack  instead  of  re 
ceiving  it,  as  our  lines  were  on  the  eve  of  advancing. 
A  projected  but  uncompleted  railroad,  with  alter 
nating  cuts  and  embankments,  afforded  a  splendid 
line  of  defense  to  our  infantry  on  the  left.  The  most 
continued  and  persistent  fighting  was  where  it  be 
gan,  on  that  portion  of  the  line  held  by  Jackson's  old 
division.  In  the  course  of  an  hour  the  attack  was 
repulsed  and  a  counter-charge  made,  but,  judging 
from  the  number  of  dead  the  enemy  left  on  the  field, 
and  the  rapidity  of  their  pursuit,  the  Confederates 
met  with  but  little  resistance  thereafter.  An  attack 
had  been  made  on  Longstreets's  corps  at  the  same 
time,  which  met  with  the  same  ill  success,  and  was 
followed  by  a  countercharge.  I  remember  our 
noticing  the  high  range  of  hills  in  front  of  Long- 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON      123 

street,  completely  commanding,  as  it  did,  the  inter 
vening  ground,  and  some  one  remarking,  while  the 
charge  was  in  progress,  that  it  seemed  impossible  to 
carry  it.  But  the  reserves  who  occupied  this  high 
ground  made  but  little  resistance,  and,  joining  those 
who  had  been  repulsed,  all  fled  hurriedly  from  the 
field.  As  soon  as  the  retreat  of  the  Federal  army 
began,  active  participation  in  the  battle  by  the  ar 
tillery  ceased.  We  joined  in  the  pursuit,  which  was 
brought  to  a  close  soon  after  it  began  by  approach 
ing  night. 

In  crossing  a  field  in  the  pursuit,  a  short  distance 
from  our  gun,  I  passed  near  a  young  infantryman 
lying  entirely  alone,  with  his  thigh-bone  broken  by 
a  Minie-bullet.  He  was  in  great  distress  of  mind 
and  body,  and  asked  me  most  pleadingly  to  render 
him  some  assistance.  If  I  could  do  nothing  else,  he 
begged  that  I  should  find  his  brother,  who  belonged 
to  Johnston's  battery,  of  Bedford  County,  Virginia. 
I  told  him  I  could  not  leave  my  gun,  etc.,  which  gave 
him  little  comfort;  but  he  told  me  his  name,  which 
was  Ferguson,  and  where  his  home  was.  Fortu 
nately,  however,  I  happened  on  Johnston's  battery 
soon  after,  and  sent  his  brother  to  him.  I  heard 
nothing  further  of  him  until  five  years  later — two 
years  after  the  war — when  I  was  on  a  visit  to  some 
relatives  in  Bedford  County.  As  we  started  to 
church  in  Liberty  one  Sunday  morning  I  recalled 
the  incident  and  mentioned  it  to  my  aunt's  family, 
and  was  informed  that  Ferguson  was  still  alive,  had 


124    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

been  very  recently  married,  and  that  I  would  prob 
ably  see  him  that  morning  at  church.  And  sure 
enough,  I  was  scarcely  seated  in  church  when  he 
camp  limping  in  and  took  a  seat  near  me.  I  recog 
nized  him  at  once,  but,  fearing  he  had  not  forgotten 
what  he  felt  was  cruel  indifference  in  his  desperate 
situation,  did  not  renew  our  acquaintance. 

After  parting  with  him  on  the  battlefield  and 
overtaking  my  gun,  our  route  for  a  time  was 
through  the  enemy's  dead  and  wounded  of  the  bat 
tle  which  took  place  two  days  before,  who  had  been 
lying  between  the  two  armies,  exposed  to  the  hot 
sun  since  that  time.  While  taking  a  more  direct 
route,  as  the  battery  was  winding  around  an  ascent, 
my  attention  was  called  to  a  Federal  soldier  of  enor 
mous  size  lying  on  the  ground.  His  head  was  al 
most  as  large  as  a  half-bushel  and  his  face  a  dark- 
blue  color.  I  supposed,  as  a  matter  of  course,  that 
he  was  dead,  and  considered  him  a  curiosity  even  as 
a  dead  man.  But,  while  standing  near  him,  wonder 
ing  at  the  size  of  the  monster,  he  began  to  move, 
and  turned  as  if  about  to  rise  to  his  feet.  Thinking 
he  might  succeed,  I  hurried  on  and  joined  my  gun. 

Here  we  had  a  good  opportunity  of  observing  the 
marked  and  striking  difference  between  the  Fed 
erals  and  Confederates  who  remained  unburied  for 
twenty-four  hours  or  more  after  being  killed.  While 
the  Confederates  underwent  no  perceptible  change 
in  color  or  otherwise,  the  Federals,  on  the  contrary, 
became  much  swollen  and  discolored.  This  was, 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON      125 

of  course,  attributable  to  the  difference  in  their  food 
and  drink.  And  while  some  Confederates,  no  doubt 
for  want  of  sufficient  food,  fell  by  the  wayside  on 
the  march,  the  great  majority  of  them,  owing  to 
their  simple  fare,  could  endure,  and  unquestionably 
did  endure,  more  hardship  than  the  Federals  who 
were  overfed  and  accustomed  to  regular  and  full 
rations. 

Our  following  in  the  pursuit  was  a  mere  form, 
as  the  enemy  had  been  driven  by  our  infantry  from 
all  of  their  formidable  positions,  and  night,  as  usual 
in  such  cases,  had  put  a  stop  to  further  pursuit.  As 
we  countermarched,  to  find  a  suitable  camping- 
ground,  great  care  had  to  be  taken  in  the  darkness 
to  avoid  driving  over  the  enemy's  wounded  who  lay 
along  the  course  of  our  route.  I  remember  one  of 
them  especially,  in  a  narrow  place,  was  very  grate 
ful  to  me  for  standing  near  him  and  cautioning  the 
drivers  as  they  passed  by. 

On  the  next  day,  Sunday,  August  31,  after  three 
days  of  occupation  such  as  I  have  described,  we  were 
not  averse  to  a  Sabbath-day's  rest,  which  also  gave 
us  the  opportunity  of  reviewing  at  leisure  the  events 
and  results  of  our  experience,  and  going  over  other 
portions  of  the  battlefield.  Looking  to  the  right 
front,  spread  out  in  full  view,  was  the  sloping 
ground  over  which  Longstreet  had  fought  and 
driven  his  antagonists.  The  extensive  area  pre 
sented  the  appearance  of  an  immense  flower-garden, 
the  prevailing  blue  thickly  dotted  with  red,  the  color 


126     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

of  the  Federal  Zouave  uniform.  In  front  of  the 
railroad -cut,  and  not  more  than  fifty  yards  from  it, 
where  Jackson's  old  division  had  been  attacked,  at 
least  three-fourths  of  the  men  who  made  the  charge 
had  been  killed,  and  lay  in  line  as  they  had  fallen.  I 
looked  over  and  examined  the  ground  carefully,  and 
was  confident  that  I  could  have  walked  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  in  almost  a  straight  line  on  their  dead  bodies 
without  putting  a  foot  on  the  ground.  By  such  evi 
dences  as  this,  our  minds  had  been  entirely  disabused 
of  the  idea  that  "the  Northerners  would  not  fight." 

It  was  near  this  scene  of  carnage  that  I  also  saw 
two  hundred  or  more  citizens  whose  credulity  un 
der  General  Pope's  assurance  had  brought  them  from 
Washington  and  other  cities  to  see  "Jackson  bag 
ged,"  and  enjoy  a  gala  day.  They  were  now  un 
der  guard,  as  prisoners,  and  responded  promptly  to 
the  authority  of  those  who  marched  them  by  at  a 
lively  pace.  This  sample  of  gentlemen  of  leisure 
gave  an  idea  of  the  material  the  North  had  in  re 
serve,  to  be  utilized,  if  need  be,  in  future. 

During  the  three  days— 28th,  29th  and  30th— 
the  official  reports  give  the  Federal  losses  as  20,000, 
the  Confederates  as  10,000.  On  each  of  these  days 
our  town  of  Lexington  had  lost  one  of  her  most 
promising  young  men — Henry  R.  Payne,  of  our 
battery;  Hugh  White,  captain  of  the  College  com 
pany,  and  Willie  Preston,  a  private  in  the  same  com 
pany,  a  noble  young  fellow  who  had  had  the  forti 
tude  and  moral  courage,  at  the  request  of  President 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      127 

Junkin,  to  pull  down  the  palmetto  flag  hoisted  by 
the  students  over  Washington  College.  We  re 
mained  about  Manassas  only  long  enough  for  the 
dead  to  be  buried. 

The  suffering  of  the  wounded  for  want  of  atten 
tion,  bad  enough  at  best,  in  this  case  must  have  been 
extraordinary.  The  aggregate  of  wounded  of  the 
two  armies,  Confederate  and  Federal,  exceeded 
15,000  in  number.  The  surrounding  country  had 
been  devastated  by  war  until  it  was  practically  a 
desert.  The  railroad  bridges  and  tracks,  extending 
from  the  Rapidan  in  Orange  County  to  Fairfax,  a 
distance  of  fifty  miles,  had  been  destroyed,  so  that 
it  would  require  several  weeks  before  the  Confed 
erates  could  reach  the  hospitals  in  Richmond  and 
Charlottesville,  and  then  in  box-cars,  over  rough, 
improvised  roads.  Those  of  the  Federal  army  were 
cut  off  in  like  manner  from  their  hospitals  in  the 
North.  In  addition  to  all  this,  the  surgeons  and 
ambulances  and  their  corps  continued  with  their  re 
spective  commands,  to  meet  emergencies  of  like  na 
ture,  to  be  repeated  before  the  September  moon  had 
begun  to  wane. 


CHAPTER  XV 

BATTLE   OF    CHANTILLY LEESBURG CROSSING    THE 

POTOMAC 

AFTER  such  prolonged  marching  and  such  a  vic 
tory  as  the  second  Manassas  we  hoped  for  a  rest  so 
well  earned ;  at  any  rate,  we  imagined  that  there  was 
no  enemy  near  inclined  to  give  battle ;  but  on  Mon 
day,  September  1,  we  were  again  on  the  march, 
which  continued  far  into  the  night,  it  being  near 
daylight  when  we  went  into  park.  The  latter  part 
of  the  way  I  rode  on  a  caisson,  seated  by  a  com 
panion,  and  so  entirely  overcome  with  sleep  as  to  be 
unable  to  keep  my  eyes  open  five  seconds  at  a  time, 
nodding  from  side  to  side  over  the  wheels.  My 
companion  would  rouse  me  and  tell  me  of  my  dan 
ger,  but  shame,  danger,  and  all  were  of  no  avail  till, 
waking  for  the  fortieth  time,  I  found  my  hat  was 
gone.  I  jumped  down,  went  back  a  short  distance, 
and  found  my  old  drab  fur,  of  Lexington  make,  flat 
in  the  road,  having  been  trampled  over  by  several 
teams  and  gun-wheels. 

After  a  halt  of  a  few  hours  we  were  again  on  the 
move,  and  soon  found  ourselves  in  Fairfax  County. 
About  noon  we  passed  by  "Chantilly,"  the  home  of 
my  messmate,  Wash.  Stuart,  whom  we  had  left  des 
perately  wounded  at  Winchester.  The  place,  a  beau- 

128 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      129 

tiful  country  residence,  was  deserted  now.  Stuart, 
though,  \vas  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood,  a 
paroled  prisoner,  and  on  his  return  to  us  the  follow 
ing  winter  told  us  of  the  efforts  he  had  made  to  find 
us  near  "The  Plains"  with  a  feast  of  wines,  etc.,  for 
our  refreshment.  Two  or  three  miles  from  Chan- 
tilly  short  and  frequent  halts  and  cautious  advances 
warned  us  that  there  were  breakers  ahead.  Then 
the  pop,  pop,  pop!  of  a  skirmish-line  along  the  edge 
of  a  wood  in  our  front  brought  back  again  those 
nervous  pulsations  in  the  region  of  the  stomach 
which  no  amount  of  philosophy  or  will-power  seemed 
able  to  repress. 

The  battery  kept  straight  on  in  the  road  and 
through  the  woods,  the  enemy's  skirmishers  having 
fallen  back  to  our  right.  \Ye  halted  where  the  road 
began  to  descend,  waiting  until  a  place  suitable  for 
action  could  be  found.  Up  to  this  time  there  was 
only  infantry  skirmishing,  not  a  cannon  having  been 
fired  on  either  side,  when,  as  we  stood  quietly  by  our 
guns,  a  Federal  shell  burst  in  our  midst  with  a  tre 
mendous  crash.  None  of  us  heard  the  report  of  the 
gun  that  sent  it,  or  knew  from  what  direction  it 
came,  but  the  accuracy  with  which  we  had  been  lo 
cated  in  the  dense  forest  was  not  comforting. 

Soon  after  this,  our  attention  was  attracted  by 
the  approach,  along  the  road  in  our  front,  of  ten  or 
twelve  horsemen,  riding  leisurely  toward  us,  one  of 
whom  bore  a  banner  of  unusually  large  size.  As 
they  passed,  the  most  conspicuous  figure  in  the  party 


130     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

was  a  Federal  officer  clad  in  brilliant  uniform  and 
mounted  on  a  superb  bay  horse,  who  with  several 
other  prisoners  was  being  escorted  by  a  squad  of 
cavalry.  The  banner  was  the  flag  of  New  York 
State,  with  the  field  of  white-satin  emblazoned  with 
the  coat-of-arms  of  the  Empire  State  and  all  elabor 
ately  decorated  with  flowing  cords  and  tassels.  The 
officer  I  afterwards  learned  had  been  at  West  Point 
with  Gen.  Fitz  Lee,  and  asked  that  his  beautiful 
animal  be  given  to  this  former  friend — and  the 
horse  became  the  mount  of  Lieut.  John  Lee,  a 
brother  of  the  General. 

After  remaining  here  for  an  hour,  and  our  officers 
finding  no  open  ground  for  battle,  and  no  enemy  in 
sight  except  some  videttes  who  saluted  us  with  an 
occasional  Minie-ball,  we  countermarched  one-half 
mile  in  a  drenching  rain  and  went  into  park.  Mean 
while,  a  brisk  musketry  fire  had  extended  along  the 
infantry  lines,  and  soon  after  halting  two  of  our 
battery  horses  fell  dead,  struck  by  their  stray  bul 
lets.  It  was  during  this  contest,  in  the  pouring  rain, 
that  General  Jackson,  on  receiving  a  message  from 
a  brigadier  that  his  ammunition  was  wet,  and  he 
feared  he  could  not  hold  on,  replied,  "Tell  him  to 
hold  his  ground.  If  his  guns  will  not  go  off,  neither 
will  the  enemy's." 

Before  the  firing  ceased,  which  continued  through 
the  twilight,  Major-General  Kearney,  mistaking  a 
line  of  Confederates  for  his  own  men,  rode  almost 
into  their  midst  before  discovering  his  error.  He 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      131 

wheeled  his  horse,  and,  as  he  dashed  off,  leaning  for 
ward  on  the  horse's  neck,  received  a  bullet  in  his 
back  and  fell  dead  upon  the  field.  Next  day  his 
body  was  returned  to  his  friends  under  flag  of  truce. 

From  Chantilly,  or  Ox  Hill,  as  this  battle  was 
called  by  Confederates  and  Federals,  respectively, 
we  reached  Leesburg,  the  county-seat,  by  a  march  of 
thirty  miles  due  north  into  Loudoun  County,  and  a 
mile  or  two  east  of  this  attractive  town  went  into 
bivouac  about  sunset  in  a  beautiful  grassy  meadow 
which  afforded  what  seemed  to  us  a  downy  couch, 
and  to  the  horses  luxuriant  pasturage,  recalling 
former  and  better  days.  Next  morning,  while  lying 
sound  asleep  wrapped  in  my  blanket,  I  became  pain 
fully  conscious  of  a  crushing  weight  on  my  foot. 
Opening  my  eyes,  there  stood  a  horse  almost  over 
me,  quietly  cropping  the  grass,  with  one  forefoot 
planted  on  one  of  mine.  Having  no  weapon  at  hand, 
I  motioned  and  yelled  at  him  most  lustily.  Being 
the  last  foot  put  down  it  was  the  last  taken  up,  and, 
turning  completely  around,  he  twisted  the  blanket 
around  the  calks  of  his  shoe,  stripped  it  entirely  off 
of  me,  and  dragged  it  some  yards  away.  There  be 
ing  no  stones  nor  other  missiles  available,  I  could 
only  indulge  in  a  storm  of  impotent  rage,  but,  not 
withstanding  the  trampling  I  had  undergone,  was 
able  "to  keep  up  with  the  procession." 

The  morning  was  a  beautiful  one,  the  sun  having 
just  risen  in  a  clear  sky  above  the  mists  overhang 
ing  and  marking  the  course  of  the  Potomac  a  mile 


132     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

to  the  east,  and  lighting  up  the  peaks  of  the  Blue 
Ridge  to  the  west.  The  country  and  scenery  were 
not  unlike,  and  equal  to  the  prettiest  parts  of  the 
Valley.  Circling  and  hovering  overhead,  calling 
and  answering  one  another  in  their  peculiarly  plain 
tive  notes,  as  if  disturbed  by  our  presence,  were  the 
gray  plover,  a  bird  I  had  never  before  seen.  The 
environment  was  strikingly  peaceful  and  beautiful, 
and  suggestive  of  the  wish  that  the  Federals,  whom 
we  had  literally  whipped  out  of  their  boots  and 
several  other  articles  of  attire,  and  who  had  now 
returned  to  their  own  country,  would  remain  there, 
and  allow  us  the  same  privilege. 

But  General  Lee  took  a  different  view  of  it,  and 
felt  that  the  desired  object  would  be  more  effectu 
ally  accomplished  by  transferring  the  war  into  their 
own  territory.  So  before  noon  we  were  again 
"trekking,"  and  that,  too,  straight  for  the  Potomac. 
Orders  had  again  been  issued  forbidding  the  can 
noneers  riding  on  the  caissons  anl  limbers ;  but,  in 
crossing  the  Potomac  that  day,  as  the  horses  were 
in  better  shape  and  the  ford  smooth,  Captain 
Poague  gave  us  permission  to  mount  and  ride  over 
dry-shod.  For  which  breach  of  discipline  he  was 
put  under  arrest  and  for  several  days  rode — solemn 
and  downcast — in  rear  of  the  battery,  with  the  firm 
resolve,  no  doubt,  that  it  was  the  last  act  of  charity 
of  which  he  would  be  guilty  during  the  war.  Lieu 
tenant  Graham  was  in  command. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MARYLAND MY    DAY    IN    FREDERICK    CITY 

WE  were  now  in  Maryland,  September  5,  1862. 
From  accounts  generally,  and  more  particularly 
from  the  opinions  expressed  by  the  Maryland  mem 
bers  of  our  battery,  we  were  in  eager  anticipation  of 
seeing  the  whole  population  rise  to  receive  us  with 
open  arms,  and  our  depleted  ranks  swelled  by  the 
younger  men,  impatient  for  the  opportunity  to  help 
to  achieve  Southern  independence.  The  prospect  of 
what  was  in  store  for  us  when  we  reached  Balti 
more,  as  pictured  by  our  boys  from  that  city,  filled 
our  minds  with  such  eager  yearnings  that  our  impa 
tience  to  rush  in  could  scarcely  be  restrained.  On 
the  evening  of  our  arrival  within  the  borders  of  the 
State,  with  several  companions,  I  took  supper  at  the 
house  of  a  Southern  sympathizer,  who  said  much 
to  encourage  our  faith. 

In  a  day  of  two  we  were  approaching  Frederick 
City.  Strict  orders  had  been  issued  against  forag 
ing  or  leaving  the  ranks,  but  Steve  Dandridge  and 
I  determined  to  take  the  bit  in  our  teeth  and  en 
deavor  to  do  the  town  for  one  day  at  all  hazards. 
Knowing  the  officers  and  provost-guards  would  be 
on  the  alert  and  hard  to  evade  after  the  town  was 
reached,  we  concluded,  in  order  to  be  safe  from  their 
observation,  to  accomplish  that  part  of  our  plan  be- 

133 


134     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

forehand.  A  field  of  corn  half  a  mile  from  the  city 
afforded  us  good  cover  till  well  out  of  sight.  Then, 
by  "taking  judicious  advantage  of  the  shrubbery," 
we  made  our  way  into  a  quiet  part  of  the  city,  and, 
after  scaling  a  few  picket  fences,  came  out  into  a 
cross-street  remote  from  the  line  of  march.  Steve 
was  the  fortunate  possessor  of  a  few  dollars  in 
greenbacks,  my  holdings  being  a  like  sum  in  Con 
federate  scrip. 

As  previously  mentioned,  our  extra  baggage — and 
extra  meant  all  save  that  worn  on  our  backs — had 
been  left  weeks  before  near  the  banks  of  the  Rapi- 
dan,  so  that  our  apparel  was  now  in  sad  plight. 
Dandridge  had  lost  his  little  cadet-cap  while  on  a 
night  march,  and  supplied  its  place  from  the  head 
of  a  dead  Federal  at  Manassas,  his  hair  still  pro 
truding  freely,  and  burnt  as  "brown  as  a  pretzel 
bun."  The  style  of  my  hat  was  on  the  other  ex 
treme.  It  had  been  made  to  order  by  a  substantial 
hatter  in  Lexington,  enlisted,  and  served  through 
the  war  on  one  head  after  another.  It  was  a  tall, 
drab-colored  fur  of  conical  shape,  with  several  rows 
of  holes  punched  around  the  crown  for  ventilation. 
I  still  wore  the  lead-colored  knit  jacket  given  me  by 
"Buck"  Ranson  during  the  Banks  campaign.  This 
garment  was  adorned  with  a  blue  stripe  near  the 
edges,  buttoned  close  at  the  throat,  and  came  down 
well  over  the  hips,  fitting  after  the  manner  of  a 
shirt.  My  trousers,  issued  by  the  Confederate 
Quartermaster  Department,  were  fashioned  in  North 


EDWARD   A.    Moom: 
(March.     1S<»2) 


UNDER    STONEWALL  JACKSON      135 

Carolina,  of  a  reddish-brown  or  brick-dust  color, 
part  wool  and  part  cotton,  elaborate  in  dimensions 
about  the  hips  and  seat,  but  tapering  and  small  at 
the  feet,  in  imitation,  as  to  shape  and  color,  of  those 
worn  by  Billy  Wilson's  Zouaves  at  first  Manassas. 
This  is  an  accurate  description  of  our  apparel. 
Among  our  fellow-soldiers  it  attracted  no  especial 
attention,  as  there  were  many  others  equally  as 
striking.  Very  naturally,  we  were  at  first  eyed  with 
suspicion  by  the  people  we  met,  and  when  we  in 
quired  for  a  place  to  get  refreshments  were  directed 
"down  yonder"  ;  in  fact  anywhere  else  than  where 
we  were. 

We  soon  found  a  nice  little  family  grocery-store; 
that  is,  one  kept  by  a  family,  including  among  others 
two  very  comely  young  women.  Here  we  found 
O'Rourke,  an  Irishman  of  our  company,  who  had  a 
talent  for  nosing  out  good  things — both  solids  and 
liquids.  We  were  served  with  a  good  repast  of  na 
tive  wine,  bread,  butter,  etc. ;  and,  in  case  we  should 
not  have  leisure  for  milder  beverages,  had  a  canteen 
filled  with  whiskey. 

While  enjoying  our  agreeable  cheer,  a  man  about 
thirty  years  of  age  came  in,  he  said,  to  make  our 
acquaintance.  He  was  quite  a  sharp-looking  fellow, 
with  small,  keen  black  eyes,  a  "glib"  tongue,  and  told 
us  that  he  was  an  out-and-out  rebel,  proud  to  meet 
us  and  ready  to  oblige.  Steve  forthwith  proposed, 
as  evidence  of  his  good- will,  an  exchange  of  head 
gear.  He  dilated  eloquently  on  the  historic  value  of 


136     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

his  own  cap,  and,  while  it  did  not  entirely  suit  him, 
exposed  as  he  was  to  the  weather,  it  would  be  be 
coming  to  a  city  gentleman,  besides  reviving  the 
most  pleasant  associations  as  a  souvenir ;  and,  more 
over,  the  hat  the  stranger  wore  was  most  suitable  for 
a  soldier  and  would  do  good  service  to  the  cause.  At 
length  the  exchange  was  made  and,  Steve  having 
donned  the  nice  black  hat,  we  took  our  leave.  We 
had  scarcely  \valked  a  square  when  our  attention 
was  attracted  by  the  sound  of  rapid  footsteps  ap 
proaching  from  the  rear,  and,  turning,  we  saw  our 
new  and  interesting  acquaintance  coming  at  a  run. 
As  he  passed  us,  with  a  high  bound  he  seized  the 
hat  from  Dandridge's  head,  threw  the  cap  on  the 
pavement,  and  disappeared  like  a  flash  around  the 
corner. 

While  seated  in  a  confectionery,  enjoying  a  water 
melon  we  had  purchased  at  a  nearby  fruitstand,  a 
gentleman  came  in  and  insisted  on  presenting  us  with 
a  bottle  of  blackberry  brandy,  which  he  recom 
mended  as  an  excellent  tonic.  We  declined  his  offer, 
a  little  suspicious  as  to  the  nature  of  the  liquor,  but, 
as  he  accepted  our  invitation  to  partake  of  our 
melon,  we  compromised  by  joining  him  in  a  drink 
of  the  brandy,  and  found  it  so  palatable  we  regretted 
not  having  accepted  his  proposed  present  of  the 
whole  bottle.  Here,  with  boyish  delight,  we  laid  in 
a  supply  of  confectionery. 

Passing  along  the  street  soon  after  this,  we  were 
accosted  by  a  venerable-looking  gentleman,  who 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      137 

stopped  us  and  inquired,  very  modestly,  if  there  was 
any  way  in  which  he  could  be  of  service  to  us.  We 
could  suggest  none.  He  then  intimated  that  we 
might  be  a  little  short  of  current  funds.  We  could 
not  deny  that  our  funds  were  somewhat  short  and 
not  very  current.  He  offered  us  some  greenbacks, 
of  which  we  accepted  a  dollar,  asking  him  to  try  one 
of  our  Confederate  dollars  instead,  which  he  declined 
to  do,  but  expressed  the  hope,  in  a  very  delicate  way, 
that  all  of  the  Confederate  soldiers  would  so  con 
duct  themselves  as  to  show  the  Marylanders  of 
Union  proclivities  what  gentlemen  tliev  really  were. 
Our  next  experience  was  rather  trying,  for  me  at 
least,  as  events  will  show.  Oandridge  remembered 
that  he  had  a  lady  friend  in  the  city,  and  proposed 
that  we  hunt  her  up  and  pay  a  call.  We  discussed 
the  subject,  I  thinking  such  assurance  out  of  the 
question ;  but  he  said  he  knew  her  "like  a  book,"  that 
she  had  visited  at  "The  Bower,"  his  family  home; 
would  excuse  our  appearance,  and  be  charmed  to 
see  us.  He  knew  that,  when  in  Frederick  City,  she 
visited  at  a  Mr.  Webster's,  whose  handsome  resi 
dence  we  succeeded  in  locating,  and  were  soon  at  the 
door.  The  bell  \vas  answered  by  a  tall,  dignified- 
looking  gentleman  of  about  forty-five  years,  with  a 
full  brown  beard,  who,  standing  in  the  half-open 
door,  looked  inquiringly  as  to  the  object  of  our 
visit.  Dandridge  asked  if  Miss  -  -  was  in.  He 
replied  she  was,  and  waited  as  if  inclined  to  ask, 
"What  business  is  that  of  yours?"  Dandridge  cut 


138     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

the  interview  short  by  saying,  "My  name  is  Dand- 
ridge,  and  I  wish  to  see  her.  Come  in,  Ned."  We 
walked  in,  and  were  asked  to  be  seated  in  the  hall. 
Presently  Miss  -  -  appeared.  She  seemed  at  first, 
and  doubtless  was,  somewhat  surprised.  Dandridge, 
though,  was  perfectly  natural  and  at  ease,  intro 
duced  me  as  if  I  were  a  general,  and  rattled  away 
in  his  usual  style.  She  informed  him  that  another 
of  his  lady  friends  was  in  the  house,  and  left  us  to 
bring  her  in.  To  me  the  situation  was  not  of  the 
kind  I  had  been  seeking  and,  rising,  I  said,  "Steven, 
if  you  have  time  before  the  ladies  return  to  manu 
facture  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  my  absence,  do 
so;  otherwise,  treat  the  matter  as  if  you  had  come 
alone,"  and  I  vanished.  Dandridge  was  invited  to 
remain  to  dinner,  was  sumptuously  feasted  and  en 
tertained  by  the  host,  and  to  my  astonishment 
brought  me  a  special  invitation  to  return  with  him 
the  following  day  and  dine  with  the  household. 
Other  engagements,  however,  prevented  my  going. 
About  four  P.  M.  I  met  Joe  Shaner,  of  Lexington, 
and  of  our  battery,  on  the  street.  His  gun  having 
met  with  some  mishap  the  day  previous,  had  fallen 
behind,  and  had  now  just  come  up  and  passed 
through  the  town.  Joe  was  wo  fully  dejected,  and  de 
plored  missing,  as  one  would  have  imagined,  the 
opportunity  of  his  life — a  day  in  such  a  city,  teem 
ing  with  all  that  was  good.  But  little  time  now  re 
mained  before  evening  roll-call,  when  each  must 
give  an  account  of  himself.  He  was  hungry,  tired, 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      139 

and  warm,  and  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  comfort  him  as 
far  as  possible.  I  asked  him  how  he  would  like  a 
taste  of  whiskey.  "It's  just  what  I  need,"  was  his 
quiet  reply,  and  before  I  had  time  to  get  the  strap 
off  of  my  shoulder  he  dropped  on  one  knee  on  the 
curb-stone  and  had  my  canteen  upside  down  to  his 
mouth,  oblivious  of  those  passing  by.  He  had  no 
money,  but,  being  a  messmate,  I  invested  the  rem 
nant  of  my  change  for  his  benefit,  but  found  it 
necessary  to  include  a  weighty  watermelon,  to  make 
out  his  load  to  camp. 

The  next  acquaintance  I  met  was  George  Bedin- 
ger,  whom  I  found,  clad  a  la  mode,  standing  in  a 
hotel-door  with  an  expression  of  calm  satisfaction 
on  his  face.  As  I  came  up  to  him,  carrying  my  re 
cent  purchases  tied  in  a  bandana  handkerchief,  and 
stood  before  him,  he  scanned  me  from  head  to  foot, 
said  not  a  word,  but  fell  back  with  a  roar  of  laugh 
ter.  Gay,  brilliant  Bedinger,  whose  presence  im 
parted  an  electric  touch  to  those  around  him ;  I  shall 
ne'er  see  his  like  again ! 

The  sun  was  now  setting;  camp  was  two  miles 
away.  Thither  I  set  out,  cheered  by  the  assurance 
that,  whatever  punishment  befell,  I  had  had  a  day. 
Arriving  there,  my  apprehensions  were  relieved, 
possibly  because  offenses  of  the  kind  were  too  num 
erous  to  be  handled  conveniently.  About  dusk  that 
evening  a  free  fight  between  the  members  of  our 
company  and  those  of  Raine's  battery,  of  Lynch- 
burg,  was  with  difficulty  prevented  by  the  officers  of 


140     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

the  companies,  who  rushed  in  with  their  sabers.  The 
Alleghany  Roughs,  hearing  the  commotion,  one  of 
their  men  cried  out,  "Old  Rockbridge  may  need  us ! 
Come  on,  boys,  let's  see  them  through!"  And  on 
they  came. 

We  spent  two  or  three  days  in  a  clean,  fresh  camp 
in  this  fertile  country,  supplied  with  an  abundance 
of  what  it  afforded.  At  noon  each  day  apple-dump 
lings  could  be  seen  dancing  in  the  boiling  camp-ket 
tles,  with  some  to  spare  for  a  visitor,  provided  he 
could  furnish  his  own  plate. 

On  the  tenth  came  orders  "to  hitch  up,"  but  to 
our  surprise  and  disappointment  we  turned  back  in 
the  direction  from  which  we  had  come,  instead  of 
proceeding  toward  Baltimore  and  Washington,  and 
the  realization  of  our  bright  hopes.  We  crossed  the 
Potomac  at  Williamsport,  thirty  miles  northwest, 
but  not  dry-shod.  Thence  southwest  into  Jefferson 
County,  West  Virginia. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

RETURN  TO  VIRGINIA INVESTMENT  AND   CAPTURE 

OF  HARPER'S  FERRY 

AT  Harper's  Ferry  there  was  a  considerable  force 
of  the  enemy,  which  place  was  now  evidently  the  ob 
ject  of  the  expedition,  and  which  we  approached 
soon  after  noon  on  the  thirteenth.  After  the  usual 
delays  required  in  getting  troops  deployed,  our  bat 
tery  was  posted  on  an  elevated  ridge  northwest  of 
Bolivar  Heights,  the  stronghold  of  the  Federals,  and 
confronting  their  bold  array  of  guns  directed  to 
ward  us. 

We  opened  fire  and  were  answered,  but  without 
apparent  effect  on  either  side.  This  was  late  in  the 
afternoon,  and  night  came  on  before  anything  was 
accomplished.  The  situation  of  Harper's  Ferry  is 
too  well  known  to  require  description.  Only  by  a 
view  of  its  surroundings  from  some  adjacent  emi 
nence  can  one  form  an  idea  of  its  beauty.  As  we 
stood  by  our  guns  on  the  morning  of  the  fifteenth 
we  were  aware  of  what  had  been  in  progress  for  the 
investment  of  the  place,  and  now,  that  having  been 
accomplished,  we  awaited  with  interest  the  general 
assault  that  was  soon  to  follow. 

Directly  on  the  opposite  side  of  Bolivar  Heights 
from  where  we  stood  was  Loudoun,  or  Virginia 

141 


142     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

Heights,  the  extreme  north  end  of  the  Blue  Ridge 
in  Virginia,  at  the  base  of  which  flowed  the  Shenan- 
doah  River,  and  now  held  by  our  artillery,  as 
were  also  Maryland  Heights,  across  the  Potomac, 
while  various  lines  of  infantry  lay  concealed  along 
the  banks  of  both  rivers  and  intervening  valleys, 
completely  enveloping  the  Federal  position. 

The  morning  was  still  and  clear,  giving  us  a  full 
view  of  the  lines  of  the  lofty  mountains.  Simul 
taneously  the  great  circle  of  artillery  opened,  all  fir 
ing  to  a  common  center,  while  the  clouds  of  smoke, 
rolling  up  from  the  tops  of  the  various  mountains, 
and  the  thunder  of  the  guns  reverberating  among 
them,  gave  the  idea  of  so  many  volcanoes. 

The  contrast  between  the  conditions  and  the 
scene  presented  as  I  viewed  the  surroundings  five 
years  later,  during  Christmas,  1867,  is  too  striking 
to  be  forgotten. 

On  the  face  of  the  country,  mountain,  field  and 
forest  lay  a  deep  snow  and  on  this  a  sleet  had  fallen, 
encasing  every  tree,  shrub  and  fence  in  a  glassy 
coating;  and  as  I  sped  along  the  highway  behind 
jingling  sleigh-bells,  seated  by  a  young  lady  uncom 
mon  fair,  the  morning  sun  blazing  through  the 
mountain  gorge  cut  by  the  rivers,  and  reflected  from 
myriads  of  sparkling  icy  prisms,  made  a  scene  of 
dazzling  beauty. 

The  fire  of  the  Federals  in  the  unequal  contest 
made  no  perceptible  impression,  not  even  on  the  lines 
of  infantry  which  had  begun  closing  in  from  all 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      143 

sides  for  the  final  charge.  Before  they  (the  in 
fantry)  were  within  musket  range,  a  horseman  bear 
ing  a  large  piece  of  tent-cloth  swept  along  the  crest 
of  Bolivar  Heights.  The  doubtful  color  of  the  flag 
displayed  prevented  an  immediate  cessation  of  the 
Confederate  fire.  It  proved  to  be  in  token  of  sur 
render,  but  after  its  appearance  I  saw  a  shot  from 
our  second  piece  strike  so  near  a  horseman  riding 
at  speed  along  the  heights  as  to  envelop  horse  and 
rider  in  its  smoke  and  dust. 

The  whole  affair,  devoid,  as  it  was,  of  ordinary 
danger,  was  one  of  thrilling  interest.  Our  com 
manding  position  gave  us  a  full  view  of  the  exten 
sive  and  varied  terrain,  a  thing  of  rare  occurrence 
to  other  than  general  officers.  In  addition  to  this, 
the  fact  that  we  had  defeated  our  antagonists,  usu 
ally  in  superior  numbers,  in  battle  after  battle 
throughout  a  long  campaign,  tended  to  confirm  us 
in  the  opinion  that  we  could  down  them  every  time, 
and  that  the  contest  must,  at  no  distant  day,  end  in 
our  favor.  The  number  of  troops  surrendered  was 
11,500,  with  seventy-three  pieces  of  artillery,  suffi 
cient  to  supply  our  batteries  for  some  time.  It  was 
comparatively  a  bloodless  victory,  though  the  com 
manding  officer.  Colonel  A  Files,  was  killed  at  the  last 
moment,  and  the  terms  of  surrender  arranged  by 
General  White,  who  had  fallen  back  to  this  place 
from  Martinsburg.  I  saw  their  artillery  as  it  was 
driven  out  and  turned  over  to  us,  supplied  with  most 
excellent  equipments,  and  horses  sleek  and  fat. 


144     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

As  some  time  would  be  consumed  in  handling  the 
prisoners  and  the  transfer  of  arms  and  stores,  I  set 
out  in  the  afternoon  for  Charlestown,  and,  as  usual, 
went  to  my  friends — the  Ransons.  After  a  refresh 
ing  bath  I  donned  a  clean  white  shirt  and  a  pair  of 
light-checked  trousers,  and  was  ready  to  discuss  the 
events  of  the  campaign  with  General  Lindsay 
Walker,  who  was  also  a  guest  of  the  house.  About 
nine  o'clock  at  night  I  was  joined  by  Dandridge, 
who  had  been  met  in  the  town  by  his  mother  and 
sisters  from  "The  Bower,"  and,  with  light  hearts 
and  full  haversacks,  we  set  out  for  camp  seven  miles 
distant. 

The  Ranson  family  has  several  times  been  men 
tioned  in  these  pages,  as  their  home  was  a  place 
where,  when  hungry,  I  was  fed  and,  when  naked, 
clothed.  The  oldest  son,  Tom,  now  a  lawyer  in 
Staunton,  Virginia,  was  my  schoolfellow  and  class 
mate  at  college  when  a  boy  in  Lexington.  After 
receiving  a  wound  at  Cross  Keys  in  June,  1862, 
wrhen  a  lieutenant  in  the  Fifty-second  Virginia  Regi 
ment,  which  incapacitated  him  for  further  service  in 
the  infantry,  he  enlisted  in  the  cavalry.  By  reason 
of  his  familiarity  with  the  topography  of  the  coun 
try  about  Harper's  Ferry  and  the  lower  portion  of 
the  Valley,  together  with  his  indomitable  pluck  and 
steady  nerve,  he  was  often  employed  as  a  scout,  and 
in  this  capacity  frequently  visited  his  home  near 
Charlestown.  The  residence,  situated,  as  it  was,  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  and  overlooking  the  town, 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      145 

was  approached  by  a  wide  avenue  leading  by  a  gen 
tle  ascent  to  the  front  gate,  which  stood  about  sev 
enty-five  yards  from  the  house.  Owing  to  the  com 
manding  view  thus  afforded,  it  was  a  favorite  place 
for  a  Federal  picket-post,  so  that,  while  a  dangerous 
place  for  a  rebel  soldier  to  venture,  it  offered  many 
facilities  for  obtaining  valuable  information.  On  one 
occasion  young  Ranson  spent  three  days  in  this  home 
while  the  Federal  pickets  were  on  constant  watch 
day  and  night  at  the  front  gate  opening  into  the 
lawn,  and  went  in  and  out  of  the  house  at  their  con 
venience.  Moreover,  the  negro  servants  of  the  fam 
ily  knew  of  "Marse  Tom's"  presence,  but  looked  and 
acted  negro  ignorance  to  perfection  when  catechised. 
When  standing  at  a  front  window  one  afternoon 
Tom  saw  a  lady  friend  of  the  family  approaching 
the  house  from  the  town.  On  reaching  the  front 
gate  she,  of  course,  was  stopped  by  the  sentinel  and, 
after  a  parley,  refused  admittance  and  required  to 
retrace  her  steps.  Two  hours  later,  much  to  their 
surprise,  she  appeared  in  the  family-room  and  sank 
down  completely  exhausted,  having  entered  the 
house  by  a  rear  door,  which  she  had  reached  after 
making  a  detour  of  a  mile  or  more  to  escape  the 
vigilance  of  the  videttes  in  front.  After  recovering 
breath  she  unburdened  herself  of  her  load,  which 
consisted,  in  part,  of  a  pair  of  long-legged  cavalry 
boots,  late  issues  of  Northern  newspapers,  etc.  This 
load  she  had  carried  suspended  from  her  waist  and 
concealed  under  the  large  hoop-skirt  then  worn  by 


146     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

ladies.  The  newspapers  and  information  of  large 
bodies  of  Federal  troops  being  hurried  by  rail  past 
Harper's  Ferry  were  delivered  by  young  Ranson  to 
General  Lee  on  the  following  day. 

Throughout  the  preceding  day,  while  occupied 
about  Harper's  Ferry,  we  heard  heavy  cannonading 
across  the  Maryland  border,  apparently  eight  or  ten 
miles  from  us.  This  had  increased  in  volume,  and 
by  sunset  had  evidently  advanced  toward  us,  as  the 
sound  of  musketry  was  distinctly  heard.  It  proved 
to  be  an  attack  on  Gen.  D.  H.  Hill's  division  and 
other  commands  occupying  the  South  Mountain 
passes.  After  stubborn  resistance  the  Confederates 
had  been  forced  to  yield.  So  on  reaching  camp  to 
ward  midnight,  after  our  visit  to  Charlestown,  we 
were  not  surprised  to  find  the  battery  preparing  to 
move.  With  scarcely  an  hour's  delay  we  were  again 
on  the  march,  heading  for  Maryland.  We  arrived 
at  Shepherdstown  before  dawn,  and  while  halting 
in  the  road  for  half  an  hour  Henry  Lewis,  driver  at 
my  gun,  overcome  with  sleep,  fell  sprawling  from 
his  horse,  rousing  those  about  him  from  a  similar 
condition. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

INTO   MARYLAND  AGAIN BATTLE  OF  SHARPSBURG — 

WOUNDED RETURN    TO    WINCHESTER HOME 

HALF  a  mile  below  the  town  we  forded  the  Poto 
mac  for  the  third  time,  and  by  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  were  on  the  outskirts  of  Sharpsburg,  four 
miles  from  the  river.  On  the  opposite,  or  east,  side 
of  this  village  are  Antietam  creek  and  valley;  a  mile 
from  the  creek  and  parallel  to  it  was  a  heavily 
wooded  mountain.  It  is  not  my  design  to  attempt 
a  description  of  the  battle  which  was  fought  on  this 
ground  on  the  following  day,  generally  conceded  to 
have  been  the  fiercest  of  the  war,  but  only  to  men 
tion  what  came  under  my  observation  or  was  especi 
ally  associated  therewith. 

The  unusual  activity  and  aggressiveness  on  the 
part  of  General  McClellan,  as  evidenced  by  the  fierce 
attacks  made  on  our  forces  in  the  South  Mountain 
passes  for  the  two  preceding  days,  were  explained  by 
his  being  in  possession  of  General  Lee's  order  to  his 
subordinates.  This  order,  or  a  copy  of  it,  which 
contained  directions  for  the  movements  of  the  va 
rious  portions  of  the  Confederate  army,  including 
the  investment  of  Harper's  Ferry,  had  been  lost  or 
disposed  of  by  some  one  in  Frederick  City,  and  when 
this  place  was  occupied,  on  September  13,  by  the 
Federals,  was  delivered  to  General  McClellan.  Thus 

147 


148     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

acquainted  with  the  location  and  movements  of  each 
division  of  the  Confederate  army,  which  was  scat 
tered  over  a  wide  territory  and  separated  by  a  river 
and  rugged  mountains,  it  seems  surprising  that  with 
his  army  of  90,000  men  he  should  not  have  practi 
cally  destroyed  General  Lee's  army  of  40,000.  Gen 
eral  Lee,  however,  was  informed  early  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  fourteenth  that  a  copy  of  his  order  had 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  General  McClellan. 

This  was  done  by  a  citizen  of  Frederick  City  who 
happened  to  be  present  when  General  McClellan  re 
ceived  it  and  heard  him  express  satisfaction  over 
such  a  stroke  of  luck.  This  citizen  at  once  went  to 
work  to  inform  General  Lee,  which  task  he  accom 
plished  by  passing  through  the  Federal  lines  during 
the  night  and  informing  General  Stuart,  who  forth 
with  communicated  it  to  General  Lee,  who  lost  no 
time  in  moving  heaven  and  earth — the  former  by 
prayer,  we  assume ;  the  latter  by  his  authority  over 
men — to  meet  the  emergency.  Results  proved  how 
wonderfully  he  succeeded. 

As  we  moved  past  the  town  we  saw  neither  any 
of  our  troops  nor  those  of  the  enemy,  and  heard  no 
firing.  Although  there  was  complete  absence  of  the 
usual  prelude  to  battle,  still  the  apprehension  came 
over  us  that  something  serious  in  that  line  was  not 
very  remote,  either  in  time  or  place.  The  command 
ers  of  both  armies  were  conscious  of  the  importance 
of  the  impending  contest,  which  perhaps  explains  the 
extreme  caution  they  exercised. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      149 

After  passing  through  a  piece  of  woodland,  we 
entered  a  small  field  and  came  in  distinct  view  of 
two  blue  lines  of  battle,  drawn  up  one  in  rear  of  the 
other.  On  these  we  at  once  opened  fire,  and  were 
answered  very  promptly  by  a  Federal  battery  in  the 
same  quarter.  While  thus  engaged  we  had  a  visi 
tor  in  the  person  of  a  young  fellow  who  had  just 
been  commissioned  a  lieutenant,  having  previously 
been  an  orderly  at  brigade  headquarters.  Feeling 
his  newly  acquired  importance,  he  spurred  his  horse 
around  among  the  guns,  calling  out,  "Let  'em  have 
it!"  and  the  like,  until,  seeing  our  disgust  at  his  im 
pertinent  encouragement,  and  that  we  preferred  a 
chance  to  let  him  have  it,  he  departed.  Our  next 
visitor  came  in  a  different  guise,  and  by  a  hint  of 
another  kind  was  quickly  disposed  of.  He,  a  man 
of  unusually  large  size,  with  sword  dangling  at  his 
side,  came  bounding  from  our  right  at  a  full  run. 
A  large  log  a  few  steps  in  our  rear  was  his  goal 
as  a  place  of  safety,  and  over  it  he  leaped  and  was 
instantly  concealed  behind  it.  He  had  scant  time 
to  adjust  himself  before  the  log  was  struck  a  crash 
ing  blow  by  a  solid  shot.  He  reappeared  as  part  of 
the  upheaval ;  but,  regaining  his  feet,  broke  for  the 
woods  with  the  speed  of  a  quarter-horse,  and  with  a 
greater  confidence  in  distance  than  in  logs. 

It  was  now  dark,  and  our  range  had  been  ac 
curately  gotten.  After  each  discharge  of  our  op 
ponent's  guns,  what  appeared  to  be  a  harmless 
spark  of  fire,  immovable  as  a  star,  repeatedly  de- 


150     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

ceived  us.  It  was  the  burning  fuse  in  the  head  of 
the  shell  which,  coming  straight  toward  us,  seemed 
stationary  until  the  shell  shot  by  or  burst.  Four 
young  mules  drawing  our  battery- forge  were 
stampeded  by  these  shells  and  ran  off  through  the 
woods,  thus  affording  Pleasants,  our  blacksmith, 
entertainment  for  the  rest  of  the  night. 

Firing  ceased  on  both  sides  at  about  eight  o'clock, 
and  we  passed  through  the  woods  to  our  left  and 
went  into  park  on  the  opposite  side.  Still  feeling 
the  comfort  of  my  clean  clothes,  I  enjoyed  a  quiet 
night's  rest  on  the  top  of  a  caisson,  little  heeding 
the  gentle  rain  which  fell  on  my  face.  Our  bivouac 
was  immediately  by  the  "Straw-stacks,"  which 
have  been  so  generally  referred  to  as  landmarks  in 
this  battle,  and  which  were  located  in  the  open 
ground  near  the  forest  which  extended  to  the  Dunk- 
ard  church.  About  seven  o'clock  next  morning, 
while  standing  with  horses  hitched  and  awaiting 
orders,  no  engagement  so  far  having  taken  place 
near  us,  a  shell  of  great  size  burst  with  a  terrific 
report.  One  fragment  of  it  mortally  wounded  Sam 
Moore,  a  driver  of  my  gun,  while  another  piece  cut 
off  the  forefoot  of  one  of  the  horses  in  the  team. 
We  soon  transferred  his  harness  to  another  horse 
which  we  hitched  in  his  stead  and,  as  we  went  off 
at  a  trot,  the  crippled  horse  took  his  place  close  by 
where  he  was  accustomed  to  work,  and  kept  along 
side  on  three  legs  until  his  suffering  was  relieved 
bv  a  bullet  in  the  brain. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      151 

We  had  moved,  to  get  out  of  range  of  missiles, 
but  the  place  to  which  we  had  just  come  was  not  an 
improvement.  While  standing  with  the  gun  in 
front  turned  in  file  at  right  angles  to  those  follow 
ing,  a  twenty-pound  shell  swept  by  the  six  drivers 
and  their  teams  in  the  rear,  just  grazing  them,  then 
striking  the  ground,  ricocheted  almost  between  the 
forward  driver  and  his  saddle  as  he  threw  himself 
forward  on  the  horse's  neck.  I  mention  this  in  con 
trast  with  an  occurrence  later  in  the  day,  when  one 
shell  killed  or  wounded  all  of  the  six  horses  in  a 
team,  together  with  their  three  drivers. 

Fighting  along  the  line  of  four  miles  had  become 
general — done  on  our  side  chiefly  by  infantry.  Jack 
son's  corps  occupied  the  left  with  a  thin  line  of 
men,  and  from  it  there  was  already  a  stream  of 
stragglers.  Jackson,  while  sitting  nearby  on  his 
horse,  watching  the  battle,  was  approached  by  a  lad 
of  about  thirteen  years,  who  for  some  time  had  been 
one  of  his  orderlies.  He  began  talking  in  a  very 
animated  manner,  pointing  the  while  to  different 
parts  of  the  field.  Jackson  kept  his  eyes  on  the 
ground,  but  gave  close  attention  to  what  was  said. 
The  boy  was  Charles  Randolph,  and  soon  after  this 
became  a  cadet  at  the  Virginia  Military  Institute,  and 
at  the  battle  of  New  Market  was  left  on  the  field 
for  dead.  Fourteen  years  after  the  war,  while  visit 
ing  in  a  neighboring  county,  I  was  introduced  to  a 
Reverend  Mr.  Randolph,  and,  seeing  the  resem 
blance  to  the  soldier-boy,  I  asked  him  about  Sharps- 


152     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

burg,  recalling  the  incident,  and  found  he  was  the 
lad. 

The  straggling  already  mentioned  continually  in 
creased,  and  seemed  to  give  General  Jackson  great 
concern.  He  endeavored,  with  the  aid  of  his  staff 
officers  who  were  present  and  the  members  of  our 
company,  to  stop  the  men  and  turn  them  back,  but 
without  the  least  effect;  claiming,  as  they  did,  the 
want  of  ammunition  and  the  usual  excuses.  The 
marvel  was,  how  those  remaining  in  line  could  have 
withstood  the  tremendous  odds  against  them;  but, 
from  accounts,  the  enemy  suffered  the  same  experi 
ence,  and  in  a  greater  degree.  Up  to  this  time,  with 
the  exception  of  a  return  of  our  battery  to  the  Dunk- 
ard  church,  where  we  had  fought  the  evening  be 
fore,  we  had  done  nothing.  At  about  ten  o'clock 
the  indications  were  that  if  reinforcements  could 
not  be  promptly  had  serious  consequences  would 
follow.  But  just  after  our  return  from  the  church 
to  General  Jackson's  place  of  observation  we  saw  a 
long  column  of  troops  approaching  from  the  right. 
This  wras  McLaw's  division  of  Longstreet's  corps, 
which  had  just  reached  the  field.  Their  coming 
was  most  opportune,  and  but  a  short  time  elapsed 
before  the  comparative  quiet  was  interrupted — first 
by  volleys,  followed  by  a  continuous  roar  of  battle. 

Our  battery  was  now  ordered  to  the  left  of  our 
line,  and  on  the  way  thither  joined  Raine's  battery, 
of  Lynchburg,  and  a  battery  of  Louisianians — eleven 
guns  in  all.  Besides  the  ordinary  number  of  guns 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      153 

accompanying  infantry,  we  had  to  contend  with 
about  thirty  32-pounders  on  the  high  ground  in  the 
rear  and  entirely  commanding  that  part  of  the  field. 
In  view  of  the  superior  odds  against  us,  our  orders 
were  to  hold  our  positions  as  long  as  possible,  then 
to  move  to  our  left  and  occupy  new  ones.  Why 
such  instructions  were  given  was  soon  explained,  as 
the  ground  over  which  we  passed,  and  where  we 
stopped  to  fire,  was  strewn  with  the  dead  horses  and 
the  wrecks  of  guns  and  caissons  of  the  batteries 
which  had  preceded  us.  By  the  practice  thus 
afforded,  the  Federal  batteries  had  gotten  a  perfect 
range,  and  by  the  time  our  guns  were  unlimbered 
we  were  enveloped  in  the  smoke  and  dust  of  burst 
ing  shells,  and  the  air  was  alive  with  flying  iron.  At 
most  of  the  positions  we  occupied  on  this  move  it 
was  the  exception  when  splinters  and  pieces  <  >  I 
broken  rails  were  not  flying  from  the  fences  which 
stood  in  our  front,  hurled  by  shot  and  shell. 

Working  in  the  lead  of  one  of  the  Louisiana 
battery  teams  was  a  horse  that  frequently  attracted 
my  admiration.  A  rich  blood-bay  in  color,  with 
flowing  black  mane  and  tail,  as  he  swept  around  in 
the  various  changes  with  wide,  glowing  nostrils  and 
flecked  with  foam,  in  my  eyes  he  came  well  up  to 
the  description  of  the  war-horse  whose  ''neck  was 
clothed  with  thunder." 

Moving  as  we  had  been  doing,  toward  the  left 
of  our  line,  we  passed  beyond  that  portion  held  by 
regular  infantry  commands  into  what  was  defended 


154     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

by  a  mere  show  of  force  when  scarcely  any  existed. 
In  charge  of  it  was  Gen.  J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  who 
demonstrated  on  this  occasion  his  ability  to  accom 
plish  what  it  would  seem  impossible  for  one  man  to 
do.  With  a  few  skeleton  regiments  supplied  with 
numerous  flags  which  he  posted  to  show  over  the 
crests  of  the  ridges  in  our  rear,  as  if  there  were 
men  in  proportion,  he  himself  took  command  of  a 
line  of  sharpshooters  in  our  front.  This  skirmish- 
line  was  composed  of  stragglers  he  had  gathered 
up,  and  whom  he  had  transformed  from  a  lot  of 
shirkers  into  a  band  of  heroes.  With  black  plume 
floating,  cheering  and  singing,  back  and  forth  along 
the  line  he  swept. 

The  Federals  confronting  us  in  the  three  blue 
lines  could  not  have  been  less  than  8,000  men,  who, 
with  their  powerful  artillery,  should  have  utterly 
overwhelmed  the  scant  numbers  handled  by  Stuart. 
As  the  blue  lines  would  start  forward,  calling  to  our 
artillery  to  pour  in  the  shells  again,  he  would  urge 
on  his  sharpshooters  to  meet  them  half-way.  The 
failure  of  a  strong  force  of  Federals  to  advance 
farther  is  explained,  no  doubt,  by  the  fact  that  two 
of  their  army  corps  and  one  division  had  suffered 
terribly  a  short  time  before  near  the  same  ground. 

Colonel  Allan  states,  in  his  "Army  of  Northern 
Virginia,  1862,"  page  409,  "Of  Hooker's  and  Mans 
field's  corps,  and  of  Sedgwick's  division,  was  noth 
ing  left  available  for  further  operations" ;  and  Gen 
eral  Palfrey,  the  Northern  historian,  says,  "In  less 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      155 

time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  the  ground  was  strewn 
with  the  bodies  of  the  dead  and  wounded,  while  the 
unwounded  were  moving  off  rapidly  to  the  north." 
(Palfrey,  "Antietam  and  Fredericksburg,"  page 
87.) 

While  engaged  in  one  of  these  artillery  duels  a 
thirty-two-pound  shot  tore  by  the  gun  and  struck 
close  by  Henry  Rader,  a  driver,  who  was  lying  on 
the  ground,  holding  the  lead-horses  at  the  limber. 
The  shell  tore  a  trench  alongside  of  him,  and  hoisted 
him  horizontally  from  the  ground.  As  he  stag 
gered  off,  dazed  by  the  shock,  the  horses  swung 
around  to  run,  when  young  R.  E.  Lee,  Jr.,  with 
bare  arms  and  face  begrimed  with  powder,  made 
a  dash  from  the  gun,  seized  the  bridle  of  each  of  the 
leaders  at  the  mouth,  and  brought  them  back  into 
position  before  the  dust  had  cleared  away. 

In  the  constant  changes  from  knoll  to  knoll,  in 
accordance  with  orders  to  "move  when  the  fire  be 
came  too  hot,"  some  of  the  batteries  with  us  with 
drew,  perhaps  prematurely.  In  this  way  the  Rock- 
bridge  guns  were  left  to  receive  the  whole  of  the 
enemy's  lire.  In  just  such  a  situation  as  this,  it  not 
being  to  our  liking,  I  asked  Lieutenant  Graham  if 
we  should  pull  out  when  the  others  did.  Before  he 
could  answer  the  question  a  shell  burst  at  our  gun, 
from  which  an  iron  ball  an  inch  in  diameter  struck 
me  on  the  right  thigh-joint,  tearing  and  carrying 
the  clothes  in  to  the  bone.  I  fell,  paralyzed  with 
excruciating  pain.  Graham  rode  off,  thinking  I  was 


156     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

killed,  as  he  afterward  told  me.  The  pain  soon  sub 
sided,  and  I  was  at  first  content  to  lie  still ;  but,  see 
ing  the  grass  and  earth  around  constantly  torn  up, 
and  sometimes  thrown  on  me,  I  made  fruitless 
efforts  to  move.  The  strict  orders  against  assisting 
the  wounded  prevented  my  being  carried  off  until 
the  firing  had  ceased,  when  I  was  taken  back  about 
fifty  yards  and  my  wound  examined  by  two  sur 
geons  from  the  skeleton  regiments,  who  treated  me 
with  the  utmost  kindness,  thinking,  perhaps,  from 
my  clean  white  shirt,  that  I  was  an  officer.  An  hour 
later  my  gun  came  by,  and  I  was  put  on  a  caisson 
and  hauled  around  for  an  hour  or  two  more. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  what  was  left  of  the 
battery  was  seen  by  General  Lee,  and  the  interview 
between  him  and  his  son  took  place.  To  give  an 
idea  of  the  condition  of  the  battery,  I  quote  from 
"Recollections  and  Letters  of  General  Lee,"  by 
R.  E.  Lee,  Jr.,  page  77: 

"As  one  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  I 
occasionally  saw  the  Commander-in-Chief,  or  passed 
the  headquarters  close  enough  to  recognize  him  and 
members  of  his  staff;  but  a  private  soldier  in  Jack 
son's  corps  did  not  have  much  time  during  that  cam 
paign  for  visiting,  and  until  the  battle  of  Sharps- 
burg  I  had  no  opportunity  of  speaking  to  him.  On 
that  occasion  our  battery  had  been  severely  handled, 
losing  many  men  and  horses.  Having  three  guns 
disabled,  we  were  ordered  to  withdraw  and,  while 
moving  back,  we  passed  General  Lee  and  several  of 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      157 

his  staff  grouped  on  a  little  knoll  near  the  road. 
Having  no  definite  orders  where  to  go,  our  captain, 
seeing  the  commanding  General,  halted  us  and  rode 
over  to  get  some  instructions.  Some  others  and  my 
self  went  along  to  see  and  hear.  General  Lee  was 
dismounted  with  some  of  his  staff  around  him,  a 
courier  holding  his  horse.  Captain  Poague,  com 
manding  our  battery,  the  Rockbridge  Artillery,  sa 
luted,  reported  our  condition,  and  asked  for  instruc 
tions.  The  General  listened  patiently,  looked  at  us, 
his  eyes  passing  over  me  without  any  sign  of  recog 
nition,  and  then  ordered  Captain  Poague  to  take  the 
most  serviceable  horses  and  men,  man  the  unin 
jured  gun,  send  the  disabled  part  of  his  command 
back  to  refit,  and  report  to  the  front  for  duty.  As 
Poague  turned  to  go,  I  went  up  to  speak  to  my 
father.  When  he  found  out  who  I  was  he  con 
gratulated  me  on  being  well  and  unhurt.  I  then 
said,  'General,  are  you  going  to  send  us  in  again?1 
'Yes,  my  son,'  he  replied,  with  a  smile,  'you  all  must 
do  wrhat  you  can  to  help  drive  these  people  back.' 
In  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Lee,  General  Lee  says,  T  have 
not  laid  eyes  on  Rob  since  I  saw  him  in  the  battle 
of  Sharpsburg,  going  in  with  a  single  gun  of  his, 
for  the  second  time,  after  his  company  had  been 
withdrawn  in  consequence  of  three  of  its  guns  hav 
ing  been  disabled.  .  .  .'  ' 

Held  by  a  companion  on  the  caisson,  as  it  was 
driven  toward  our  right,  jolting  over  the  partly 
torn-down  fences  and  exposed  to  far-reaching  mis- 


158     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

siles,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  other  portions 
of  the  battlefield.  We  stopped  for  a  time  on  the 
ridge  overlooking  the  village  almost  enveloped  in 
the  flames  of  burning  buildings,  while  flocks  of  ter 
rified  pigeons,  driven  hither  and  thither  by  the 
screaming  and  bursting  shells,  flew  round  and 
round  in  the  clouds  of  smoke.  In  hearing,  from  be 
yond  and  to  the  left  of  the  village,  was  the  fighting 
at  "Bloody  Lane,"  a  sunken  road  which  was  almost 
filled  with  the  dead  of  both  sides  when  the  day 
closed.  As  was  also  that  at  "Burnside  Bridge,"  a 
mile  southeast  of  the  town,  for  the  possession  of 
which  Burnside's  corps  and  Toombs's  Georgians 
contended  till  late  in  the  afternoon.  I  was  not 
averse  to  leaving  this  scene  when  the  disabled  cais 
son  proceeded,  and  reached  the  pike. 

A  mile  farther  on  I  was  deposited  on  the  road 
side,  near  the  brigade  field-hospital ;  and,  completely 
exhausted,  was  carried  into  the  yard  of  a  neat  brick 
cottage  by  two  stalwart  Alleghany  Roughs  and  laid 
beside  their  captain,  John  Carpenter.  The  place, 
inside  and  out,  was  filled  with  wounded  men.  Car 
penter  insisted  on  my  taking  the  last  of  his  two- 
ounce  vial  of  whiskey,  which  wonderfully  revived 
me.  Upon  inquiry,  he  told  me  he  had  been  shot 
through  the  knee  by  a  piece  of  shell  and  that  the 
surgeons  wanted  to  amputate  his  leg,  but,  calling 
my  attention  to  a  pistol  at  his  side,  said,  "You  see 
that?  It  will  not  be  taken  off  while  I  can  pull  a 
trigger."  He  entirely  recovered,  and  led  his  bat- 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      159 

tery  into  the  next  battle,  where  he  was  again  se 
verely  wounded.  That  the  history  of  the  four  Car 
penter  brothers  of  Alleghany  County,  Virginia,  has 
not  been  recorded  is  a  misfortune.  As  already  men 
tioned,  Joe,  the  oldest,  and  captain  of  the  Alleghany 
Rough  Battery,  was  mortally  wounded  near  us  at 
Cedar  Mountain.  John,  who  succeeded  him  as  cap 
tain,  after  being  wounded  at  Sharpsburg,  was  again 
wounded  at  Fredericksburg  in  1862,  where  he  was 
twice  carried  from  the  field,  and  as  often  worked 
his  way  back  to  his  gun.  In  Early's  campaign  in 
1864  he  lost  his  right  arm.  In  the  same  campaign 
his  next  younger  brother,  Ben,  lieutenant  in  the 
same  company,  was  shot  through  the  lungs.  The 
wounds  of  neither  had  healed  when  they  received 
news,  at  their  home,  of  the  surrender  at  Appomat- 
tox.  Mounting  their  horses,  they  set  out  for  Gen. 
Joe  Johnston's  army  in  North  Carolina,  but,  on 
arriving  at  Lexington,  Virginia,  heard  of  the  sur 
render  of  that  army.  The  fourth  and  youngest  bro 
ther  lost  a  leg  near  the  close  of  the  war.  Like  all 
true  heroes,  their  modesty  was  as  striking  as  their 
courage  and  patriotism. 

On  the  following  day  at  our  hospital  the  heap  of 
amputated  legs  and  arms  increased  in  size  until  it 
became  several  feet  in  height,  while  the  two  armies 
lay  face  to  face,  like  two  exhausted  monsters,  each 
waiting  for  the  other  to  strike. 

About  sundown  that  afternoon  I  was  put  in  an 
ambulance  with  S.  R.  Moore,  of  the  College  com- 


160     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

pany,  who  was  in  a  semi-conscious  state,  having 
been  struck  on  the  brow,  the  ball  passing  out  back 
of  the  ear.  The  distance  to  Shepherdstown  was 
only  three  miles,  but  the  slow  progress  of  innumer 
able  trains  of  wagons  and  impedimenta  generally, 
converging  at  the  one  ford  of  the  Potomac,  delayed 
our  arrival  until  dawn  the  next  morning.  About 
sunrise  we  were  carried  into  an  old  deserted  frame 
house  and  assigned  to  the  bare  floor  for  beds.  My 
brother  David,  whose  gun  had  remained  on  picket 
duty  on  this  side  of  the  river,  soon  found  me,  and 
at  once  set  about  rinding  means  to  get  me  away.  The 
only  conveyance  available  was  George  Bedinger's 
mother's  carriage,  but  my  brother's  horse — the  same 
brute  that  had  robbed  me  of  my  bedding  at  Lees- 
burg — now  refused  to  work. 

The  booming  of  cannon  and  bursting  of  shells 
along  the  river  at  the  lower  end  of  the  town  ad 
monished  us  that  our  stay  in  the  desolate  old  house 
must  be  short,  and,  as  brigade  after  brigade  marched 
by  the  door,  the  apprehension  that  "they  in  whose 
wars  I  had  borne  my  part"  would  soon  "have  all 
passed  by,"  made  me  very  wretched.  As  a  last  re 
sort,  I  was  lifted  upon  the  back  of  this  same  ob 
streperous  horse  and,  in  great  pain,  rode  to  the  bat 
tery,  which  was  camped  a  short  distance  from  the 
town. 

S.  R.  Moore  was  afterward  taken  to  the  Bedin- 
gers'  residence,  where  he  remained  in  the  enemy's 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      161 

lines  until,  with  their  permission,  he  was  taken  home 
by  his  father  some  weeks  later. 

David  Barton,  a  former  member  of  our  company, 
but  now  in  command  of  Cutshaw's  battery,  kindly 
sent  his  ambulance,  with  instructions  that  I  be  taken 
to  his  father's  house  in  Winchester,  which  place,  in 
company  with  a  wounded  man  of  his  battery,  I 
reached  on  the  following  day.  At  Mr.  Barton's  I 
found  my  cousin  and  theirs,  Robert  Barton,  of 
Rockbridge,  on  sick-leave,  and  a  Doctor  Grammer, 
who  dressed  my  wound ;  and,  although  unable  to 
leave  my  bed,  I  intensely  enjoyed  the  rest  and  kind 
ness  received  in  that  hospitable  home,  which  was 
repeatedly  made  desolate  by  the  deaths  of  its  gal 
lant  sons  who  fell  in  battle. 

Marshall,  the  eldest,  and  lieutenant  in  artillery, 
was  killed  on  the  outskirts  of  Winchester  in  May, 
1862.  David,  the  third  son,  whom  I  have  just  men 
tioned,  was  killed  in  December  of  the  same  year. 
Strother,  the  second  son,  lost  a  leg  at  Chancellors- 
ville  and  died  soon  after  the  war;  and  Randolph,  the 
fourth  son,  captain  on  the  staff  of  the  Stonewall 
Brigade,  and  now  a  distinguished  lawyer  in  Balti 
more,  was  seven  times  wounded,  \vhile  Robert,  a 
member  of  our  battery,  and  a  gallant  soldier,  was 
the  only  one  of  the  five  brothers  in  the  service  who 
survived  the  war  unscathed.  Our  mutual  cousin, 
Robert  Barton  of  the  Rockbridge  Cavalry,  was  shot 


162     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

through  the  lungs  in  Early's  Valley  campaign,  and 
left  within  the  enemy's  lines,  where,  nursed  by  his 
sister,  his  life  hung  in  the  balance  for  many  days. 

The  following  copy  of  a  letter  from  Gen.  J.  E.  B. 
Stuart  to  Miss  Virginia  Barton  is  of  interest: 

"CENTER  VILLE,  Feb.  7,  1862. 
"MY  DEAR  Miss  BARTON  : 

"I  received  your  note  just  as  I  was  upon  the  point 
of  granting  your  brother  a  furlough.  It  greatly 
enhances  the  pleasure  it  afforded  me  to  grant  it,  to 
know  how  dear  a  sister  he  has  to  receive  him  at 
home. 

"I  avail  myself  of  this  opportunity  to  express  my 
very  high  appreciation  of  the  conspicuous  gallantry 
he  has  displayed  on  all  occasions,  and  to  assure  you 
that  he  is  a  cavalier  of  whom  a  sister  and  a  country 
may  be  justly  proud. 

"Hoping  when  the  war  is  ended  and  peace  once 
more  smiles  on  old  Virginia,  to  do  myself  the  honor 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  fair  young  Virginia, 
I  am  very  truly  and  sincerely, 

"Your  well-wisher, 

"J.  E.  B.  STUART." 

After  a  sojourn  of  a  few  days,  leave  to  go  home 
was  given  me  by  the  department  surgeon,  and  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  with  young  Boiling, 
Barton  and  Reid  serving  as  my  crutches  (on  their 
way  to  the  Virginia  Military  Institute),  I  was  put 
in  the  stage-coach  at  the  front  door  and  driven  to 


>l 


R.  T.   BAHTOX 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      163 

the  hotel,  where  several  Baltimoreans,  who  were 
returning  from  Northern  prisons,  got  in.  One  of 
them  was  especially  noticeable,  as  his  face  was  much 
pitted  by  smallpox,  and  with  his  Confederate  uni 
form  he  wore  a  wide-brimmed  straw  hat.  They 
were  a  jolly  set,  and  enlivened  the  journey  no  little. 
A  square  or  two  farther  on,  two  wounded  officers 
came  from  a  house  at  which  we  stopped,  and  in  an 
authoritative  manner  demanded  seats,  inside,  all  of 
which  were  occupied.  They  said  they  were  officers 
in  a  celebrated  command  and  expected  correspond 
ing  consideration.  The  fellow  with  the  hat  told 
them  his  party  was  just  from  Fort  Delaware,  where 
little  distinction  was  paid  to  rank,  but  if  they  re 
quired  exalted  positions  they  ought  to  get  on  top  of 
the  coach.  The  officers  said  they  were  wounded  and 
could  not  climb  up.  "I  was  wounded,  too — 
mortally,"  came  from  under  the  hat.  After  joking 
them  sufficiently,  the  Baltimoreans  kindly  gave  up 
their  seats  and  mounted  to  the  top. 

At  the  towns  at  which  we  stopped  to  change 
horses,  the  boys  who  collected  around  were  enter 
tained  with  wonderful  stories  by  our  friends  from 
Baltimore.  Just  outside  of  one  of  these  stopping- 
places,  we  passed  an  old  gentleman,  probably  refu- 
geeing,  wTho  wore  a  tall  beaver  hat  and  rode  a  pie 
bald  pony.  To  the  usual  crowd  of  lads  who  had 
gathered  around,  they  said  they  were  going  to  give 
a  show  in  the  next  town  and  wanted  them  all  to 
come,  would  give  them  free  tickets,  and  each  a  hat- 


164     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

ful  of  "goobers" ;  then  pointing  to  the  old  gentleman 
on  the  spotted  pony,  who  had  now  ridden  up,  said, 
"Ah,  there  is  our  clown;  he  can  give  you  full  par 
ticulars."  One  hundred  and  thirty  miles  from  the 
battle-field  of  Sharpsburg  the  dawn  of  the  second 
day  of  our  journey  showed  again  the  procession  of 
wounded  men,  by  whom  we  had  been  passing  all 
night  and  who  had  bivouacked  along  the  road  as 
darkness  overtook  them. 

They  were  now  astir,  bathing  each  other's 
wounds.  The  distance  from  Winchester  to  Staun- 
ton  is  ninety-six  miles,  and  the  trip  was  made  by  our 
stage  in  twenty-six  hours,  with  stops  only  long 
enough  to  change  horses. 

From  nine  to  ten  o'clock  in  the  night  I  was  utterly 
exhausted,  and  felt  that  I  could  not  go  a  mile  farther 
alive ;  but  rallied,  and  reached  Staunton  at  six  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  having  been  twenty-six  hours  on  the 
way.  Here  Sam  Lyle  and  Joe  Chester,  of  the  Col 
lege  company,  detailed  as  a  provost-guard,  cared  for 
me  until  the  next  day,  when  another  stage-ride  of 
thirty-six  miles  brought  me  to  Lexington  and  home. 
With  the  aid  of  a  crutch  I  was  soon  able  to  get 
about,  but  four  months  passed  before  I  was  again 
fit  for  duty,  and  from  the  effects  of  the  wound  I  am 
lame  to  this  day. 

Since  going  into  the  service  in  March,  1862,  six 
months  before,  I  had  been  in  nine  pitched  battles, 
about  the  same  number  of  skirmishes,  and  had 
marched  more  than  one  thousand  miles — and  this, 
too,  with  no  natural  taste  for  war. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

RETURN  TO  ARMY IN  WINTER-QUARTERS  NEAR  PORT 

ROYAL 

ON  December  13,  1862,  the  great  first  battle  of 
Fredericksburg  had  been  fought,  in  which  four  men 
—Montgomery,  McCalpin,  Fuller  and  Beard — in 
my  detachment  had  been  killed,  and  others  wounded, 
while  the  second  piece,  standing  close  by,  did  not 
lose  a  man.  This  section  of  the  battery  was  posted 
in  the  flat,  east  of  the  railroad.  As  I  was  not  pres 
ent  in  this  battle  I  will  insert  an  account  recently 
given  me  by  Dr.  Robert  Frazer,  a  member  of  the 
detachment,  who  was  severely  wounded  at  the  time : 

"First  battle  of  Fredericksburg,  December  13. 
1862. — We  reached  the  field  a  little  after  sunrise, 
having  come  up  during  the  night  from  Port  Royal, 
where  we  had  been  engaging  the  enemy's  gunboats. 
The  first  section,  under  Lieutenant  Graham,  went 
immediately  into  action  in  front  of  Hamilton's 
Crossing. 

"In  conjunction  with  Stuart's  horse  artillery  it 
was  our  mission  to  meet  Burnside's  movement 
against  General  Lee's  right  wing,  resting  on  the 
Rappahannock.  With  the  exception  of  brief  inter 
vals,  to  let  the  guns  cool,  we  ceased  firing  only  once 
during  the  entire  day,  and  this  was  to  move  about 

165 


166     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

a  hundred  yards  for  a  more  effective  position.  Ex 
cepting  the  few  minutes  this  occupied,  our  guns  and 
limber-chests  remained  in  the  same  position  all  day, 
the  caissons  plying  steadily  between  the  ordnance- 
train  and  the  battle  line,  to  keep  up  the  stock  of 
ammunition.  I  do  not  recall  the  number  of  casual 
ties,  but  our  losses  were  heavy.  When  we  came  to 
make  the  change  of  position  mentioned  above,  more 
than  half  the  horses  were  unable  to  take  a  single 
step.  One  of  the  drivers,  Fuller,  was  lying  on  the 
ground,  his  head  toward  the  enemy.  A  shell  en 
tered  the  crown  of  his  head  and  exploded  in  his 
body !  Not  long  after  this  I  heard  some  one  calling 
me,  and,  looking  back,  I  saw  'Doc'  Montgomery 
prostrate.  I  ran  to  him  and,  stooping  at  his  side, 
began  to  examine  his  wound.  'There  is  nothing 
you  can  do  for  me,'  he  said,  'I  am  mortally  wounded, 
and  can  live  but  a  little  while.  Take  a  message  for 
my  mother.'  (His  mother  was  a  widow.)  'When 
the  battle  is  over,  write  and  tell  her  how  I  died — at 
my  post — like  a  man — and  ready  to  give  my  life 
for  the  cause.  Now,  Frazer,  pray  for  me.'  When 
the  brief  prayer  was  ended  I  resumed  my  place  at 
the  gun.  It  was  about  this  time,  I  think,  that  Pel- 
ham  came  up  and  said,  'Well,  you  men  stand  kill 
ing  better  than  any  I  ever  saw.'  A  little  later,  just 
after  sunset,  I  received  two  severe  wounds  myself, 
one  of  them  disabling  my  right  arm  for  life;  and 
so  I  had  to  commit  brave  'Doc's'  dying  message  for 
his  mother  to  other  hands." 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      167 

The  third  and  fourth  pieces,  twenty-pound  Par- 
rott  guns,  were  on  the  hill  west  of  the  railroad,  and 
there  Lieutenant  Baxter  McCorkle,  Randolph  Fair 
fax  and  Arthur  Robinson  were  killed,  and  Edward 
Alexander  lost  an  arm.  Lieut. -Col.  Lewis  Cole- 
man,  professor  of  Latin  at  the  University  of  Vir 
ginia,  second  in  command  of  the  battalion,  while 
standing  by  this  gun  received  a  mortal  wound.  This 
section  of  the  battery  was  exposed  to  a  fire  unsur 
passed  in  fierceness  during  the  war.  The  ground, 
when  it  arrived,  was  already  strewn  with  dead 
horses  and  wrecked  batteries,  and  two  horses  that 
were  standing,  with  holes  in  their  heads  through 
which  daylight  could  be  seen,  were  instantly  killed 
by  other  shots  intended  for  our  guns. 

Captain  Poague  has  since  told  me  that  the  orders 
General  Jackson  gave  him  as  he  came  to  the  place 
were,  "to  fire  on  the  enemy's  artillery  till  it  became 
too  hot  for  him,  and  then  to  turn  his  guns  on  their 
infantry,"  and  that  he,  Poague,  had  stated  this  in 
his  official  report,  and  the  chief  of  artillery  of  the 
corps,  before  forwarding  the  report,  had  asked  him 
if  he  was  sure  that  these  were  General  Jackson's 
orders.  He  told  him  he  was.  The  report  was  then 
endorsed  and  so  forwarded. 

The  scene,  as  described  at  the  close  of  this  battle 
near  nightfall,  was  a  melancholy  one.  As  the  two 
sections  of  the  battery,  which  had  separated  and 
gone  to  different  portions  of  the  field  in  the  morn 
ing — the  one  to  the  heights,  the  other  to  the  plain 


168     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

— met  again,  on  the  caissons  of  each  were  borne  the 
dead  bodies  of  those  of  their  number  who  had  fal 
len,  the  wounded,  and  the  harness  stripped  from 
the  dead  horses.  The  few  horses  that  had  survived, 
though  scarcely  able  to  drag  the  now  empty  ammu 
nition-chests,  were  thus  again  burdened. 

After  going  into  bivouac  and  the  dead  had  been 
buried,  to  clear  the  ground  for  a  renewal  of  the 
battle  on  the  following  day,  the  wagon-horses  had 
to  be  brought  into  requisition.  These  were  driven 
in  pairs  to  the  position  on  the  bluff  and,  as  lights 
would  attract  the  fire  of  the  enemy,  the  dead  horses 
had  to  be  found  in  the  darkness,  and  with  chains 
dragged  to  the  rear.  The  approach  of  the  first  in 
stalment  to  a  line  of  infantry,  through  which  it  had 
to  pass  and  who  were  roused  from  sleep  by  the 
rattling  of  chains  and  the  dragging  of  the  ponder 
ous  bodies  through  brush  and  fallen  timber,  created 
no  little  excitement,  and  a  wide  berth  was  given  the 
gruesome  procession.  By  midnight  the  work  had 
been  accomplished. 

At  dawn  of  the  following  day  a  fresh  detach 
ment  of  men  and  horses  having  been  furnished  by 
another  battery  for  the  fourth  piece,  our  battery 
again  went  into  position.  There  it  remained  inac 
tive  throughout  the  day,  while  the  enemy's  dead 
within  our  lines  were  being  buried  by  their  own 
men  under  flag  of  truce.  On  the  night  which  fol 
lowed,  as  the  two  armies  lay  under  arms,  confront 
ing  each  other,  a  display  of  the  aurora  borealis,  of 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      169 

surpassing  splendor  and  beauty,  was  witnessed.  At 
such  times,  from  time  immemorial,  "shooting-stars," 
comets,  and  the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies 
have  been  observed  with  profoundest  interest  as 
presaging  good  or  evil.  On  this  occasion,  with  the 
deep  impress  of  what  had  just  been  experienced  and 
the  apprehension  of  an  even  more  determined  con 
flict  on  the  day  next  to  dawn,  it  can  readily  be  im 
agined  that  minds  naturally  prone  to  superstition 
were  thrilled  with  emotions  and  conjectures  aroused 
by  the  sight.  At  any  rate,  these  "northern  lights," 
reinforced  by  the  memory  of  the  fearful  carnage 
so  recently  suffered,  seem  to  have  been  interpreted 
as  a  summons  home — as  the  Northern  hosts,  like 
the  shifting  lights,  had  vanished  from  view  when 
daylight  appeared. 

In  January,  1863,  with  William  McClintic,  of  our 
company,  I  returned  to  the  army,  which  was  in 
winter-quarters  near  Guiney's  Station  in  Caroline 
County. 

After  arriving  in  a  box-car  at  this  station,  about 
midnight,  during  a  pouring  rain,  we  found  one  sec 
tion  of  the  battery  camped  three  miles  from  Port 
Royal.  The  other  section,  to  which  I  belonged,  was 
on  picket  twelve  miles  beyond — at  Jack's  Hill,  over 
looking  Port  Tobacco  Bay.  The  section  near  Port 
Royal  had  comfortable  winter-quarters  on  a  hill 
side  and  was  well  sheltered  in  pine  woods.  The  pic 
ture  on  the  opposite  page,  is  a  copy  from  the  origi 
nal,  and  a  perfect  representation  by  Edward  Hyde, 


170     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

who,  with  William  Boiling,  Thomas  McCorkle,  Wil 
liam  McClintic,  A.  S.  Dandridge,  G.  W.  Stewart, 
David  Moore,  and  myself,  constituted  the  mess.  The 
homes  of  the  other  messes,  at  intervals,  near.  The 
tent  on  the  left  was  our  sleeping  apartment,  accom 
modating  six  men ;  the  other  two  occupied  a  Yankee 
tent-fly,  not  shown  in  the  picture.  We  slept  three 
in  a  bed ;  when  weary  of  lying  on  one  side,  the  word 
to  turn  over  was  "when,"  and  the  movement  was 
executed  simultaneously  and  with  military  precision. 
The  other  structure  was  our  kitchen  and  dining- 
room,  a  semi-"dugout,"  with  the  fireplace  in  the 
earthen  wall.  The  little  box  attached  to  a  log  con 
tained  our  table-ware,  if  we  had  had  a  table,  and 
was  just  above  the  mess-chest.  We  had  two  meals 
a  day,  consisting  usually  of  meat  and  biscuit.  Gen 
erally  we  had  coffee,  either  genuine  or  rye,  similar 
in  flavor  to  "postum." 

When  the  number  of  biscuit  turned  out  happened 
not  to  be  a  multiple  of  eight,  say  fifty-seven,  every 
man  in  the  mess  took  into  account  the  odd  one,  and 
to  get  through  with  the  seven  allotted  to  him,  with 
out  appearing  over-anxious  to  secure  it,  with  be 
coming  propriety,  and  aware,  too,  that  every  other 
man  had  the  same  ambition,  brought  into  play  an 
exercise  of  talent  that  was  not  uninteresting.  An 
extra  draught  of  coffee  left  in  the  pot  was  subject  to 
similar  consideration  and  fell  to  the  lot  of  him 
whose  throat  could  stand  the  highest  degree  of 
temperature.  More  than  once  there  were  evidences 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      171 

that  the  boiling  process  had  not  entirely  ceased  un 
til  after  it  was  swallowed.  The  plantation  adjoin 
ing  the  one  on  which  we  were  camped  was  owned 
by  a  gentleman  named  Garrett,  and  at  his  barn 
Wilkes  Booth,  who  assassinated  President  Lincoln, 
\vas  afterwards  overtaken  and  killed. 

As  most  of  my  mess  were  in  this  section,  I  was 
allowed  to  remain  until  the  contents  of  my  box 
brought  from  home  were  consumed.  One  night 
soon  after  my  arrival,  while  making  a  visit  to  mem 
bers  of  another  mess,  Abner  Arnold,  one  of  my 
hosts,  pointing  to  several  large,  dark  stains  on  the 
tarpaulin  which  served  as  the  roof  of  their  shanty, 
said,  "Have  you  any  idea  what  discolored  those 
places?''  As  I  had  not,  he  said,  "That's  your  blood ; 
that  is  the  caisson-cover  on  which  you  were  hauled 
around  at  Sharpsburg — and  neither  rain  nor  snow 
can  wash  it  out." 

The  infantry  of  the  Stonewall  Brigade  was  in 
camp  seven  miles  from  us,  toward  the  railroad. 
Having  ridden  there  one  morning  for  our  mail,  I 
met  two  men  in  one  of  their  winter-quarters' 
streets.  One  of  them,  wearing  a  citizen's  overcoat, 
attracted  my  attention.  Then,  noticing  the  scars 
on  his  face,  I  recognized  my  former  messmate. 
Wash.  Stuart,  on  his  return  to  the  battery  for  the 
first  time  since  his  fearful  wound  at  Winchester  the 
preceding  May.  His  companion  was  Capt.  Willie 
Randolph,  of  the  Second  Virginia  Regiment,  both 
of  whom  will  be  mentioned  later. 


172     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

The  chief  sport  of  the  troops  in  their  winter- 
quarters  was  snowballing,  which  was  conducted  on 
regular  military  principles.  Two  brigades  would 
sometimes  form  in  line  of  battle,  commanded  by 
their  officers,  and  pelt  each  other  without  mercy.  In 
one  such  engagement  a  whole  brigade  was  driven 
pell-mell  through  its  camp,  and  their  cooking  uten 
sils  captured  by  their  opponents. 

Once  a  week  quite  regularly  an  old  negro  man 
came  to  our  camp  with  a  wagon-load  of  fine  oysters 
from  Tappahannock.  It  was  interesting  to  see  some 
of  the  men  from  our  mountains,  who  had  never 
seen  the  bivalve  before,  trying  to  eat  them,  and  hear 
their  comments.  Our  custom  was  to  buy  anything 
to  eat  that  came  along,  and  so  they  had  invested 
their  Confederate  notes  in  oysters.  One  of  them 
gave  some  of  my  messmates  an  account  of  the  time 
his  mess  had  had  with  their  purchases.  When  it 
was  proposed  that  they  sell  their  supply  to  us,  he 
said,  "No,  we  are  not  afraid  to  tackle  anything,  and 
we've  made  up  our  minds  to  eat  what  we've  got  on 
hand,  if  it  takes  the  hair  off." 

While  in  this  camp,  although  it  was  after  a  five- 
months'  absence,  I  invariably  waked  about  two  min 
utes  before  my  time  to  go  on  guard,  having  slept 
soundly  during  the  rest  of  the  four  hours.  One 
officer,  always  finding  me  awake,  asked  if  I  ever 
slept  at  all.  The  habit  did  not  continue,  and  had 
not  been  experienced  before.  An  instance  of  the 
opposite  extreme  I  witnessed  here  in  an  effort  to 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      173 

rouse  Silvey,  who  was  generally  a  driver.  After 
getting  him  on  his  feet,  he  was  shaken,  pulled,  and 
dragged  around  a  blazing  fire,  almost  scorching 
him,  until  the  guard-officer  had  to  give  him  up.  If 
feigning,  it  was  never  discovered. 

The  contents  of  my  box  having  long  since  been 
consumed,  I,  with  several  others,  was  sent,  under 
command  of  Lieut.  Cole  Davis,  to  my  section  at 
Jack's  Hill.  There  we  were  quartered  in  some  negro 
cabins  on  this  bleak  hill,  over  which  the  cold  winds 
from  Port  Tobacco  Bay  had  a  fair  sweep.  On  my 
return  from  the  sentinel's  beat  one  snowy  night  I 
discovered,  by  the  dim  firelight,  eight  or  ten  sheep 
in  our  cabin,  sheltering  from  the  storm.  The  temp 
tation,  with  such  an  opportunity,  to  stir  up  a  panic, 
was  hard  to  resist.  But,  fearing  the  loss  of  an  eye 
or  other  injury  to  the  prostrate  sleepers  on  the  dirt 
floor,  by  the  hoof  of  a  bucking  sheep,  I  concluded 
to  forego  the  fun.  After  a  stay  of  several  weeks  we 
were  ordered  back  to  the  other  section,  much  to  our 
delight.  In  that  barren  region,  with  scant  proven 
der  and  protected  from  the  weather  by  a  roof  of 
cedar-brush,  our  horses  had  fared  badly,  and  showed 
no  disposition  to  pull  when  hitched  to  the  guns  that 
were  held  tight  in  the  frozen  mud.  To  one  of  the 
drivers,  very  tall  and  long  of  limb,  who  was  trying 
in  vain  with  voice  and  spur  to  urge  his  team  to  do 
its  best,  our  Irish  wit,  Tom  Martin,  called  out,  "Pull 
up  your  frog-legs,  Tomlin,  if  you  want  to  find  the 
baste;  your  heels  are  just  a-spurrin'  one  another  a 
foot  below  his  belly !" 


174     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

We  were  delighted  to  be  again  in  our  old  quar 
ters,  where  we  were  more  in  the  world  and  guard 
duty  lighter.  Several  times  before  leaving  this  camp 
our  mess  had  visits  from  the  two  cousins,  Lewis  and 
William  Randolph,  the  first-named  a  captain  in  the 
Irish  Battalion,  the  second  a  captain  in  the  Second 
Virginia  Regiment,  who  stopped  over-night  with 
us,  on  scouting  expeditions  across  the  Rappahan- 
nock  in  the  enemy's  lines,  where  Willie  Randolph 
had  a  sweetheart,  whom  he,  soon  after  this,  mar 
ried.  Lewis  Randolph  told  us  that  he  had  killed  a 
Federal  soldier  with  a  stone  in  the  charge  on  the 
railroad-cut  at  second  Manassas ;  that  the  man,  who 
was  about  twenty  steps  from  him,  was  recapping 
his  gun,  which  had  just  missed  fire  while  aimed  at 
Randolph's  orderly-sergeant,  when  he  threw  the 
stone.  William  Randolph  said,  "Yes,  that's  true; 
when  we  were  provost-officers  at  Frederick,  Mary 
land,  a  man  was  brought  in  under  arrest  and,  look 
ing  at  Lewis,  said,  'I've  seen  you  before.  I  saw 
you  kill  a  Yankee  at  second  Manassas  with  a  stone,' 
and  then  related  the  circumstances  exactly." 

William  Randolph  was  six  feet  two  inches  in 
height,  and  said  that  he  had  often  been  asked  how 
he  escaped  in  battle,  and  his  reply  was,  "By  taking 
a  judicious  advantage  of  the  shrubbery."  This, 
however,  did  not  continue  to  avail  him,  as  he  was 
afterward  killed  while  in  command  of  his  regiment, 
being  one  of  the  six  commanders  which  the  Second 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     175 

Virginia    Regiment    lost — killed    in    battle — during 
the  war. 

In  March  we  moved  from  our  winter-quarters  to 
Hamilton's  Crossing,  three  miles  from  Fredericks- 
burg,  where  we  remained  in  camp,  with  several 
interruptions,  until  May.  Our  fare  here  was  greatly 
improved  by  the  addition  of  fresh  fish,  so  abundant 
at  that  season  of  the  year  in  the  Rappahannock  and 
the  adjacent  creeks.  To  a  mountaineer  familiar 
with  the  habits  of  the  wary  trout  and  other  fish  that 
are  caught  with  hook  and  line,  the  manner  of  fish 
ing  here  was  very  novel.  Of  the  herring  and  shad 
left  by  the  hundreds  in  the  grass  and  shallows  as  the 
tide  receded,  the  soldiers  had  only  to  wade  in  and 
with  stick  or  bare  hand  to  secure  all  they  could 
carry.  Circling  overhead  was  a  concourse  of  fish- 
hawks  and  eagles,  each  watching  his  chance  to  swoop 
down  on  his  prey,  then  ascending  with  his  catch, 
whose  silvery  sides  gleamed  in  the  sunlight  like  a 
polished  bayonet,  run  the  gauntlet  of  his  pursuers. 
In  April  the  great  cavalry  battle  at  Kelly's  Ford, 
forty  miles  above,  was  fought,  in  which  the  "Gal 
lant  Pelham"  was  killed. 


CHAPTER  XX 

SECOND      BATTLE      OF      FREDERICKSBURG CHANCEL- 

LORSVILLE WOUNDING  AND  DEATH    OF  STONE 
WALL  JACKSON 

THE  battle  at  Kelly's  Ford  was  the  forerunner  of 
the  crossing  of  Hooker's  army  to  our  side  of  the 
river,  although  this  was  delayed  longer  than  was 
expected.  "Fighting  Joe  Hooker"  having  succeeded 
Burnside  as  commander  of  the  Army  of  the  Poto 
mac,  numbering  130,000,  was  the  fourth  Federal 
general  delegated  to  crush  Lee,  with  less  than 
50,000,  Longstreet's  corps  being  still  on  the  Virginia 
peninsula.  In  the  latter  part  of  April  we  were 
roused  one  morning  before  dawn  to  go  into  posi 
tion  on  the  fatal  hill  in  the  bend  of  the  railroad. 
The  various  divisions  of  the  army  were  already  in 
motion  from  their  winter-quarters,  and,  as  they 
reached  the  neighborhood,  were  deployed  in  line  of 
battle  above  and  below. 

The  high  hills  sloping  toward  the  river  on  the 
enemy's  side  were  manned  with  heavy  siege-guns, 
from  which  shells  were  thrown  at  intervals  as  our 
troops  came  into  view.  Here  we  lay  for  a  day  or 
more,  with  guns  unlimbered,  awaiting  the  tedious 
disposition  of  the  various  divisions.  The  bluff  on 

176 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      177 

which  our  guns  were  posted,  commanding,  as  it  did, 
an  extensive  view  of  the  country,  attracted  many  of 
the  officers,  who  had  preceded  their  men,  and,  with 
field-glasses,  scanned  the  surroundings.  I  saw  at 
one  time,  within  a  few  rods  of  where  we  stood, 
Generals  Lee,  Jackson,  D.  H.  and  A.  P.  Hill,  Early, 
Rodes  and  Colston,  besides  a  score  of  brigadiers. 
At  this  time  the  enemy  were  moving  across  their 
pontoon  bridges  and  extending  their  skirmish-lines 
on  the  right  and  left. 

The  only  time  I  met  General  Jackson  to  speak  to 
him  since  he  had  left  Lexington  was  when  he  rode 
away  from  this  group  of  officers.  As  I  held  aside 
the  limb  of  a  tree  in  his  way,  near  our  gun,  he  ex 
tended  his  hand  and,  as  he  gave  me  a  hearty  shake, 
said,  "How  do  you  do,  Edward?"  A  short  time 
after  this,  our  battery  had  orders  to  fire  a  few 
rounds,  as  a  sort  of  "feeler,"  and  the  enemy  at  once 
replied.  The  officers,  not  having  been  informed  of 
the  order,  were  for  a  time  exposed  to  an  unneces 
sary  and  what  might  have  proved  very  serious  dan 
ger.  However,  they  withdrew  before  any  damage 
was  done,  although  a  large  piece  of  shell  which 
Mew  past  our  gun  gave  General  Colston  a  close  call 
as  he  tarried  near  it.  After  threatening  weather, 
the  sun  rose  clear  on  the  following  morning.  A 
light  mist  which  lay  along  the  river  soon  disap 
peared,  and  again,  as  at  Harper's  Ferry,  our  ele 
vated  position  afforded  a  superb  view.  A  level  plain 
extended  to  the  river  in  our  front  and  for  some 


178     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

miles  to  the  right,  and  as  far  as  Fredericksburg  (two 
miles)  to  the  left,  and  beyond  the  river  the  Stafford 
Heights. 

While  we  were  standing  admiring  the  scene,  three 
horses  without  riders  came  dashing  from  within  the 
Federal  lines,  and  swept  at  full  speed  between  the 
two  armies.  They  ran  as  if  on  a  regular  race-track 
and  conscious  of  the  many  spectators  who  cheered 
them  to  their  best.  Then,  veering  in  their  course 
from  side  to  side,  they  finally  shot  through  an  open 
ing  made  to  receive  them  into  our  lines,  which  raised 
a  "rebel  yell,"  as  if  Jackson  were  passing  by.  One 
of  these  horses  trotted  into  our  battery  and  was 
caught  and  ridden  by  Sergeant  Strickler,  under  the 
name  of  "Sedgwick,"  to  the  close  of  the  war. 

Hooker's  crossing  the  river  at  Fredericksburg 
was  only  a  feint,  as  the  mass  of  his  army  crossed 
near  Chancellorsville,  and  thither  our  army  went, 
leaving  Early's  division,  two  other  brigades  and  sev 
eral  batteries,  including  ours,  to  oppose  Sedgwick's 
corps.  After  three  days  here,  with  occasional  artil 
lery  duels,  Sedgwick  recrossed  the  river,  and  Early, 
supposing  he  would  join  Hooker,  set  out  with  his 
command  toward  Chancellorsville.  Before  we  had 
gone  three  miles  I  heard  General  Barksdale,  as  he 
rode  along  the  column,  ask  for  General  Early,  who 
was  a  short  distance  ahead,  and  announce,  "My 
young  men  have  told  me  that  the  Federals  are  re- 
crossing  the  river."  A  few  moments  later,  as  the 
two  rode  back  together,  General  Early  said,  "If 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      179 

that  is  the  case,  I  must  go  back  or  they  will  get  my 
wagon-train." 

We  at  once  countermarched,  and  by  eleven  o'clock 
were  back  in  position  on  the  same  bluff.  The  fourth 
detachment  was  in  front  and  failed  to  get  the  order 
to  countermarch,  and  so  kept  on  almost  to  Chancel- 
lorsville,  and  did  not  rejoin  us  until  eight  o'clock 
the  next  morning  (Sunday),  having  spent  the  whole 
night  marching. 

I  will  mention  here  a  striking  instance  of  what 
I  suppose  could  be  called  the  "irony  of  fate."  My 
bedfellow,  Stuart,  as  already  stated,  had  been  fear 
fully  wounded  at  Winchester,  his  first  battle.  After 
his  return  many  months  later,  he  often  expressed 
the  greatest  desire  to  pass  through  one  battle  unhurt, 
and  regarded  his  companions  who  had  done  so  as 
fortunate  heroes.  It  was  now  Sunday  morning  and 
there  had  been  heavy  firing  for  an  hour  or  two  about 
Fredericksburg,  and  thither  the  third  and  fourth 
pieces  were  ordered.  As  they  were  starting  off,  I 
saw  Stuart  bidding  good-by  to  several  friends,  and 
I,  not  wishing  to  undergo  a  thing  so  suggestive,  was 
quietly  moving  off.  But  he  called  out,  "Where  is  my 
partner?"  and  came  to  me,  looking  so  jaded  after 
his  long  night-march  that  his  farewell  made  me 
rather  serious.  In  half  an  hour  he  was  dead.  As 
he  was  going  with  his  gun  into  position  a  case-shot 
exploded  close  to  him  and  three  balls  passed  through 
his  body,  any  one  of  which  would  have  been  fatal. 

Two  other  members  of  the  battery,  Henry  Foutz 


180     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

and  J.  S.  Agnor,  were  also  killed  in  this  engage 
ment.  The  position  was  a  trying  one.  Two  bat 
teries  had  already  suffered  severely  while  occupying 
it,  and  the  cannoneers  of  a  third  battery  were  lying 
inactive  by  their  guns  as  ours  came  into  it.  But  in 
less  than  an  hour  thereafter  the  enemy's  guns  were 
outmatched ;  at  any  rate,  ceased  firing.  General 
Hoke,  who  had  witnessed  the  whole  affair,  came 
and  asked  Major  Latimer  to  introduce  him  to  Cap 
tain  Graham,  saying  he  wanted  to  know  the  man 
whose  guns  could  do  such  execution.  About  noon 
my  section  joined  the  others  a  short  distance  in  rear 
of  this  place  on  the  hills  overlooking  Fredericks- 
burg. 

Soon  after  we  had  gotten  together,  the  bodies  of 
our  dead  comrades  were  brought  from  the  places  at 
which  they  had  fallen,  and  William  Boiling,  Berke 
ley  Minor  and  myself,  messmates  of  Stuart,  were 
detailed  to  bury  him.  His  body  was  taken  in  our 
battery  ambulance,  which  we  accompanied,  to  the 
Marye  family  cemetery  near  our  old  camp,  and  per 
mission  gotten  to  bury  it  there.  If  I  was  ever  utterly 
miserable,  it  was  on  this  Sunday  afternoon  as  we 
stood,  after  we  had  dug  the  grave,  in  this  quiet 
place,  surrounded  by  a  dense  hedge  of  cedar,  the 
ground  and  tombstones  overgrown  with  moss  and 
ivy,  and  a  stillness  as  deep  as  if  no  war  existed.  Just 
at  this  time  there  came  timidly  through  the  hedge, 
like  an  apparition,  the  figure  of  a  woman.  She 
proved  to  be  Mrs.  Marye;  and,  during  the  battle, 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      181 

which  had  now  continued  four  days,  she  had  been 
seeking  shelter  from  the  enemy's  shells  in  the  cellar 
of  her  house.  She  had  come  to  get  a  lock  of  Stuart's 
hair  for  his  mother,  and  her  presence,  now  added  to 
that  of  our  ambulance  driver,  as  Minor  read  the 
Episcopal  burial  service,  made  the  occasion  painfully 
solemn.  In  less  than  an  hour  \ve  were  again  with 
the  battery  and  in  line  of  battle  with  the  whole  of 
our  battalion,  twenty  guns,  all  of  which  opened 
simultaneously  on  what  appeared  to  be  a  column 
of  artillery  moving  through  the  woods  in  our  front. 
However,  it  proved  to  be  a  train  of  wagons,  some  of 
which  were  overturned  and  secured  by  us  the  next 
day. 

Here  we  lay  during  the  night  with  guns  unlimb- 
ered  near  Gen.  ''Extra  Billy"  Smith's  brigade  of  in 
fantry.  Next  afternoon  we  had  a  fine  view  of  a 
charge  by  Early's  division,  with  Brigadier-Generals 
Gordon  and  Hoke  riding  to  and  fro  along  their 
lines  and  the  division  driving  the  Federals  from  their 
position  along  the  crest  of  the  hill.  The  greater 
portion  of  the  enemy's  killed  and  wounded  were 
left  in  our  hands.  Many  of  the  latter  with  whom 
we  talked  were  heartilv  sick  of  the  war  and  longed 

*  o 

for  the  expiration  of  their  term  of  service.  This 
series  of  battles,  continuing,  as  it  did,  at  intervals 
for  a  week,  was  not  yet  done  with. 

After  dark  our  battery  was  ordered  to  move 
down  toward  Fredericksburg  and  occupy  some  earth 
works  just  outside  of  the  town.  We  had  been  well 


182     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

in  range  of  the  siege-guns  already,  but  now  the  only 
hope  was  that  they  would  overshoot  us.  As  I  was 
on  guard  that  night  I  had  ample  time,  while  pacing 
the  breastworks,  for  cogitation.  I  heard  distinctly 
the  barking  of  the  dogs  and  the  clocks  striking  the 
hours  during  the  night.  When  morning  came,  a 
dense  fog  had  settled  along  the  river,  entirely  con 
cealing  us,  and  while  it  hung  we  were  ordered  to 
pull  out  quietly. 

Two  hundred  yards  back  from  this  place  we 
came  into  clear  sunlight  and,  as  we  turned,  saw  an 
immense  balloon  poised  on  the  surface  of  the  mist, 
and  apparently  near  enough  to  have  pierced  it  with 
a  shell.  Not  a  shot  was  fired  at  us — veiled,  as  we 
were,  by  the  mist — until  we  had  gotten  still  farther 
away,  but  then  some  enormous  projectiles  landed 
around  us. 

A  question  that  would  naturally  present  itself  to 
one  who  had  heard  of  the  repeated  victories  won  by 
the  Confederate  army  would  be,  "Why  were  no 
decisive  results?"  By  carefully  studying  the  history 
of  the  war,  the  inquirer  could  not  fail  to  notice  that 
at  every  crisis  either  some  flagrant  failure  on  the 
part  of  a  subordinate  to  execute  the  duty  assigned 
to  him  occurred,  or  that  some  untoward  accident  be 
fell  the  Confederate  arms.  Conspicuous  among  the 
latter  was  Jackson's  fall  at  Chancellorsville. 

That  General  Hooker  seemed  entirely  ignorant 
of  the  proximity  of  General  Lee's  army  was  dis 
closed  by  the  discovery,  by  General  Fitz  Lee,  that 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      183 

the  right  flank  of  the  Federal  army  was  totally  un 
guarded. 

General  Jackson,  when  informed  of  this,  pro 
ceeded  by  a  rapid  march  to  throw  his  corps  well  to 
the  right  and  rear  of  this  exposed  wing,  and  by  this 
unexpected  onset  threw  that  portion  of  Hooker's 
army  into  the  utmost  confusion  and  disorder.  Fall 
ing  night  for  a  time  checked  his  advance,  but,  while 
making  dispositions  to  push  the  advantage  gained, 
so  as  to  envelope  his  adversary,  he  passed,  with  his 
staff,  outside  of  his  picket  line,  and  when  returning 
to  re-enter  was  mortally  wounded  by  his  own  men. 

This  May  4  closed  the  great  effort  of  General 
Hooker,  with  132,000  men,  to  ''crush"  General  Lee's 
army  of  47,000.  The  two  last  of  the  six  days  of 
his  experience  in  the  effort  probably  made  him 
thankful  that  the  loss  of  20,000  of  his  force  had 
been  no  greater. 

The  mortal  wounding  of  Jackson  and  his  death 
on  the  tenth  more  than  offset  the  advantage  of  the 
victory  to  the  Confederates.  His  loss  was  deplored 
by  the  whole  army,  especially  by  General  Lee,  and 
to  his  absence  in  later  battles,  conspicuously  at  Get 
tysburg,  was  our  failure  to  succeed  attributed.  In 
fact  General  Lee  said  to  a  friend,  after  the  war,  that 
with  Jackson  at  Gettysburg  our  success  would  have 
been  assured — a  feeling  that  was  entertained 
throughout  the  army. 

On  the  evening  of  the  fifth,  rain,  which  seemed 
invariably  to  follow  a  great  battle,  fell  in  torrents 


184     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

and  we  went  into  camp  drenched  to  the  skin.  After 
drying  by  a  fire,  I  went  to  bed  and  slept  for  eighteen 
hours.  Being  in  our  old  position  on  the  hill,  we 
converted  it  into  a  camp  and  there  remained. 

On  that  portion  of  the  great  plain  which  extended 
along  the  railroad  on  our  right  we  witnessed  a  grand 
review  of  Jackson's  old  corps,  now  commanded  by 
General  Ewell.  The  three  divisions,  commanded, 
respectively,  by  Generals  Ed.  Johnson,  Rodes  and 
Early,  were  drawn  up  one  behind  the  other,  with  a 
space  of  seventy-five  yards  between,  and  General 
Lee,  mounted  on  "Traveler"  and  attended  by  a  full 
staff  and  numerous  generals,  at  a  sweeping  gallop, 
made  first  a  circuit  of  the  entire  corps,  then  in  front 
and  rear  of  each  division.  One  by  one  his  attend 
ants  dropped  out  of  the  cavalcade.  Gen.  Ed.  John 
son  escaped  a  fall  from  his  horse  by  being  caught 
by  one  of  his  staff.  Early  soon  pulled  out,  followed 
at  intervals  by  others ;  but  the  tireless  gray,  as  with 
superb  ease  and  even  strides  he  swept  back  and 
forth,  making  the  turns  as  his  rider's  body  inclined 
to  right  or  left,  absorbed  attention.  The  distance 
covered  was  nine  miles,  at  the  end  of  which  Gen 
eral  Lee  drew  rein  with  only  one  of  his  staff  and 
Gen.  A.  P.  Hill  at  his  side.  Such  spectacles  were 
to  us  extremely  rare,  and  this  one  was  especially 
well  timed,  affording  the  troops,  as  it  did,  an  oppor 
tunity  to  see  that  they  were  still  formidable  in  num 
ber,  and  although  Jackson  was  dead  that  the  soul 
of  the  army  had  not  passed  away. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

OPENING   OF  CAMPAIGN   OF    1863 CROSSING  TO   THE 

VALLEY BATTLE    AT    WINCHESTER    WITH     MIL- 
ROY CROSSING    THE    POTOMAC 

THE  indications  of  another  campaign  were  now 
not  wanting,  but  what  shape  it  would  take  caused 
curious  speculation ;  that  is,  among  those  whose  duty 
was  only  to  execute.  Longstreet  had  been  recalled 
from  the  Virginia  Peninsula ;  Hooker's  hosts  again 
lined  the  Stafford  Heights  across  the  Rappahan- 
nock.  At  evening  we  listened  to  the  music  of  their 
bands,  at  night  could  see  the  glow  of  their  camp- 
fires  for  miles  around.  On  June  2,  1C  well's  corps 
first  broke  camp,  followed  in  a  day  or  two  by  Long- 
street's  while  A.  P.  Hill's  remained  at  Fredericks- 
burg  to  observe  the  movements  of  Hooker.  On  the 
eighth  we  readied  Culpeper,  where  we  remained 
during  the  ninth,  awaiting  the  result  of  the  greatest 
and  most  stubbornly  contested  cavalry  engagement 
of  the  war,  which  continued  throughout  the  day  in 
our  hearing — at  Brandy  Station.  The  Federals 
having  been  driven  across  the  river,  our  march  was 
resumed  on  the  tenth. 

On  the  following  day  we  heard,  at  first  indis 
tinctly,  toward  the  front  of  the  column  continued 
cheering.  Following  on,  it  grew  louder  and  louder. 
We  reached  the  foot  of  a  long  ascent,  from  the  sum- 

185 


186     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

mit  of  which  the  shout  went  up,  but  were  at  a  loss 
to  know  what  called  it  forth.  Arriving  there,  there 
loomed  up  before  us  the  old  Blue  Ridge,  and  we, 
too,  joined  in  the  chorus.  Moving  on  with  renewed 
life,  the  continued  greeting  of  those  following  was 
heard  as  eye  after  eye  took  in  its  familiar  face.  We 
had  thought  that  the  love  for  these  old  mountains 
was  peculiar  to  us  who  had  grown  up  among  them ; 
but  the  cheer  of  the  Creoles  who  had  been  with  us 
under  Jackson  was  as  hearty  as  our  own. 

We  passed  through  Little  Washington,  thence 
by  Chester  Gap  to  Front  Royal,  the  first  of  our  old 
battlegrounds  in  the  Valley,  having  left  Longstreet's 
and  Hill's  corps  on  the  east  side  of  the  mountain. 
At  Winchester,  as  usual,  was  a  force  of  the  enemy 
under  our  former  acquaintance,  General  Milroy. 
Without  interruption  we  were  soon  in  his  vicinity. 
Nearly  two  days  were  consumed  in  feeling  his 
strength  and  position.  Our  battery  was  posted  on 
a  commanding  hill  north  of  the  town,  the  top  of 
which  was  already  furrowed  with  solid  shot  and 
shells  to  familiarize  the  enemy  with  its  range.  Our 
battery  now  consisted  of  two  twenty-pound  Par- 
rott,  and  two  brand-new  English  Blakeley  guns,  to 
one  of  which  I  belonged.  And  a  singular  coinci 
dence  it  was  that  in  putting  in  the  first  charge  my 
gun  was  choked,  the  same  thing  having  occurred 
on  the  same  field  a  year  before,  being  the  only  times 
it  happened  during  the  war.  I  went  immediately 
to  the  third  piece  and  took  the  place  of  No.  1 . 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      187 

The  battle  had  now  begun,  the  enemy  firing  at  us 
from  a  strongly  fortified  fort  near  the  town.  Their 
target  practice  was  no  criterion  of  their  shooting 
when  being  shot  at,  as  not  one  of  us  was  even 
wounded.  While  the  battle  was  in  progress  we  had 
a  repetition  of  the  race  at  Fredericksburg  when 
there  dashed  from  the  Federal  fort  three  artillery 
horses,  which  came  at  full  speed  over  the  mile  be 
tween  us,  appearing  and  disappearing  from  view. 
On  reaching  the  battery  they  were  caught,  and  one 
of  them,  which  we  named  ''Milroy,"  was  driven  by 
James  Lewis  at  the  wheel  of  my  gun,  and  restored 
with  "Sedgwick"  to  his  old  associates  at  Appomat- 
tox. 

Night  put  a  stop  to  hostilities,  and  the  next  day, 
until  late  in  the  afternoon,  we  passed  inactively. 
Then  Hayes's  Louisiana  Brigade,  formerly  com 
manded  by  Gen.  Dick  Taylor,  formed  in  our  front 
and,  charging  with  the  old  yell,  captured  the  fort. 
After  night  I  found  two  members  of  our  company 
in  possession  of  a  little  mule,  equipped  with  saddle 
and  bridle,  supposed  to  be  a  United  States  animal. 
They  said  they  were  afraid  of  mules,  and  turned 
him  over  to  me.  I  forthwith  mounted,  and  passed 
an  hour  pleasantly,  riding  around.  As  I  once  heard 
a  little  negro  say,  "I  went  everywhar  I  knowed,  an' 
every whar  I  didn't  know  I  come  back."  I  felt  now 
that  I  had  a  mount  for  the  campaign,  but  next 
morning  one  of  the  Richmond  Howitzers  claimed 
the  mule  and  identified  it  as  his. 


188     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

The  bulk  of  Milroy's  force  escaped  during  the 
night,  but  we  captured  four  thousand  prisoners, 
twenty-eight  pieces  of  artillery,  and  hundreds  of 
wagons  and  horses,  and  equipped  ourselves,  as  we 
had  done  in  1862,  at  the  expense  of  Banks.  For 
our  two  recently  acquired  English  Blakeley  guns 
we  substituted  two  twenty-pound  Parrotts,  giving 
us  four  guns  of  the  same  caliber.  On  the  thirteenth 
we  crossed  the  Potomac  at  Sheperdstown,  thence 
by  way  of  Hagerstown,  Maryland,  to  Greencastle, 
Pennsylvania,  the  first  live  Yankee  town  we  had 
visited  in  war  times.  Many  of  the  stores  were  open 
and  full  of  goods,  but  as  they  refused  to  take  Con 
federate  money,  and  we  were  forbidden  to  plunder, 
we  passed  on,  feeling  aggrieved,  and  went  into 
camp  a  few  miles  beyond. 

Having  a  curiosity  to  test  the  resources  and  hos 
pitality  of  this  abundant  country,  I  set  out  from 
camp,  with  two  companions,  for  this  purpose.  A 
walk  of  a  mile  brought  us  to  the  house  of  a  widow 
with  three  pretty  daughters.  They  told  us  they  had 
been  feeding  many  of  our  soldiers  and  could  give 
us  only  some  milk,  which  they  served,  as  seemed  to 
be  the  custom  of  the  country,  in  large  bowls.  They 
said  they  did  not  dislike  rebels,  and  if  we  would 
go  on  to  Washington  and  kill  Lincoln,  and  end  the 
war,  they  would  rejoice.  Proceeding  farther,  we 
stopped  at  a  substantial  brick  house  and  were  silently 
ushered  into  a  large  room,  in  the  far  end  of  which 
sat  the  head  of  the  house,  in  clean  white  shirt-sleeves 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      189 

but  otherwise  dressed  for  company,  his  hat  on  and 
his  feet  as  high  as  his  head  against  the  wall,  smok 
ing  a  cigar.  At  the  other  end  of  the  room  the  rest 
of  the  family  were  at  supper,  of  which  we  were 
perfunctorily  asked  by  the  mistress  to  partake.  A 
very  aged  lady,  at  a  corner  of  the  table,  without 
speaking  or  raising  her  eyes,  chewed  apparently 
the  same  mouthful  during  our  stay — one  of  our 
party  suggested,  "perhaps  her  tongue."  The  table 
was  thickly  covered  with  saucers  of  preserves, 
pickles,  radishes,  onions,  cheese,  etc.  The  man  of 
the  house  did  not  turn  his  head  nor  speak  a  word 
during  our  stay,  which  was  naturally  over  with  the 
meal. 

We  returned  to  the  battalion  about  sunset,  en 
camped  in  a  clean,  grassy  enclosure,  the  horses  en 
joying  their  bountiful  food,  the  men  in  gay  spirits, 
and  the  regimental  bands  playing  lively  airs.  Shortly 
after  our  return,  there  occurred  an  incident  which 
lent  additional  interest  to  the  occasion. 

No  one  at  all  familiar  with  the  Rockbridge  Ar 
tillery  will  fail  to  remember  Merrick.  A  lawyer 
and  native  of  Hagerstown,  Maryland,  having  been 
educated  abroad,  he  was  an  accomplished  scholar 
and  a  fine  musician,  with  a  stock  of  Irish  and  other 
songs  which  he  sang  admirably.  In  person  he  was 
very  slender,  over  six  feet  in  height,  with  a  long 
neck,  prominent  nose,  and  very  thin  hair  and 
whiskers.  Cut  off  from  home  and  being  utterly 
improvident,  he  was  entirely  dependent  on  quarter- 


190     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

master's  goods  for  his  apparel,  and  when  clothing 
was  issued  his  forlorn  and  ragged  appearance 
hushed  every  claim  by  others  who  might  have  had 
precedence.  This  Confederate  clothing,  like  the 
rations,  was  very  short,  so  that  Merrick's  panta 
loons  and  jacket  failed  to  meet,  by  several  inches, 
the  intervening  space  showing  a  very  soiled  cotton 
shirt.  With  the  garments  mentioned — a  gray  cap, 
rusty  shoes  and  socks,  and,  in  winter,  half  the  tail 
of  his  overcoat  burnt  off — his  costume  is  described. 

Indifference  to  his  appearance  extended  also  to 
danger,  and  when  a  battle  was  on  hand  so  was  Mer- 
rick.  Before  crossing  the  Potomac  he  disappeared 
from  the  command  a  perfect-looking  vagabond, 
and  now  as  we  were  reveling  in  this  bountiful  coun 
try  there  rolled  into  our  midst  a  handsome  equipage 
drawn  by  two  stylish  horses.  When  the  door  was 
opened  out  stepped  Merrick,  handsomely  dressed 
in  citizen's  clothes,  and  handed  out  two  distin 
guished-looking  gentlemen,  to  whom  he  introduced 
us.  Then,  in  the  language  of  Dick  Swiveler,  "he 
passed  around  the  rosy" ;  and  all  taking  a  pull,  our 
enthusiasm  for  Merrick  mounted  high. 

Our  march  under  Ewell  had  been  admirably  con 
ducted.  We  were  always  on  the  road  at  an  early 
hour,  and,  without  hurry  or  the  usual  halts  caused 
by  troops  crowding  on  one  another,  we  made  good 
distances  each  day  and  were  in  camp  by  sunset.  I 
never  before  or  afterward  saw  the  men  so  buoyant. 
There  was  no  demonstration,  but  a  quiet  undercur- 


B.  C.  M.  FRIEND 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      191 

rent  of  confidence  that  they  were  there  to  conquer. 
The  horses,  too,  invigorated  by  abundant  food,  car 
ried  higher  heads  and  pulled  with  firmer  tread. 

Our  march  from  Greencastle  was  through  Chani- 
bersburg  and  Shippensburg,  and  when  within  eight 
or  ten  miles  of  Carlisle  we  passed  through  one  or 
two  hundred  Pennsylvania  militia  in  new  Federal 
uniforms,  \vho  had  just  been  captured  and  paroled. 
Before  reaching  Carlisle  we  very  unexpectedly  (to 
us)  countermarched,  and  found  the  militiamen  at 
the  same  place,  but  almost  all  of  them  barefooted, 
their  shoes  and  stockings  having  been  appropriated 
by  needy  rebels.  As  we  first  saw  them  they  were 
greatly  crestfallen,  but  after  losing  their  footgear 
all  spirit  seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  them.  They 
lingered,  it  may  be,  in  anticipation  of  the  greetings 
when  met  by  wives  and  little  ones  at  home,  after 
having  sallied  forth  so  valiantly  in  their  defense. 
How  embarrassing  bare  feet  would  be  instead  of 
the  expected  trophies  of  war!  Imagine  a  young 
fellow,  too,  meeting  his  sweetheart !  That  they  kept 
each  other  company  to  the  last  moment,  managed 
to  reach  home  after  night,  and  ate  between  meals 
for  some  days,  we  may  be  sure. 

Before  reaching  Chambersburg  we  took  a  road 
to  the  left,  in  the  direction  of  Gettysburg.  To  give 
an  idea  of  the  change  in  our  diet  since  leaving  Dixie, 
I  give  the  bill-of-fare  of  a  breakfast  my  mess  en 
joyed  while  on  this  road :  Real  coffee  and  sugar, 
light  bread,  biscuits  with  lard  in  them,  butter,  apple- 


192     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

butter,  a  fine  dish  of  fried  chicken,  and  a  quarter  of 
roast  lamb! 

On  the  morning  of  July  1  we  passed  through  a 
division  of  Longstreet's  corps  bivouacked  in  a  piece 
of  woods.  Our  road  lay  across  a  high  range  of  hills, 
from  beyond  which  the  sound  of  cannonading 
greeted  us.  By  three  o'clock  that  afternoon,  when 
we  reached  the  summit  of  the  hills,  the  firing  ahead 
had  developed  into  the  roar  of  a  battle,  and  we 
pushed  forward  on  the  down-grade.  The  valley 
below,  through  which  we  passed,  was  thickly  settled, 
and  soon  we  began  to  meet  prisoners  and  wounded, 
whose  numbers  rapidly  increased  as  we  advanced, 
and  at  the  same  pump  by  the  roadside  we  frequently 
saw  a  group  of  Federal  and  Confederate  soldiers 
having  their  wounds  bathed  and  dressed  by  North 
ern  women,  kind  alike  to  friend  and  foe.  When  we 
reached  the  field,  about  sundown,  the  battle  was 
over.  This  was  July  1  and  the  first  of  the  three 
days  of  terrific  fighting  which  constituted  the  battle 
of  Gettysburg. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

ON  THE  WAY  TO  GETTYSBURG BATTLE  OF  GETTYS 
BURG RETREAT 

BEFORE  proceeding  farther  let  us  consider  briefly 
the  condition  of  the  two  armies,  and  which  had  the 
better  grounds  to  hope  for  success  in  the  great  con 
flict  now  impending.  With  the  exception  of  one — 
Sharpsburg — which  was  a  drawn  battle,  the  Con 
federates  had  been  victorious  in  every  general  en 
gagement  up  to  this  time.  Scant  rations,  depriva 
tion,  and  hardships  of  every  kind  had  made  them 
tired  of  the  war;  and  the  recent  abundance  had  not 
only  put  them  in  better  fighting  condition  than  ever 
before,  but  made  them  long  to  enjoy  it  permanently 
at  home. 

The  Federal  army  had  changed  commanders  after 
every  defeat,  and  the  present  one — General  Meade 
— who  had  just  been  appointed,  was  not  an  officer 
to  inspire  special  confidence.  With  all  this  in  favor 
of  the  Southerners,  all  else  seemed  to  conspire 
against  them.  On  the  morning  of  June  30,  the  day 
before  the  battle,  Pickett's  division  was  at  Cham- 
bersburg,  thirty  miles  from  Gettysburg;  Hood's  and 
McLaw's  (the  other  two  divisions  of  Longstreet's 
corps)  fifteen  miles  nearer  Gettysburg;  Hill's  corps 
at  Cashtown,  nine  miles  from  Gettysburg ;  Rodes's 
division  of  Ewell's  corps  at  Carlisle,  thirty  miles 

193 


194     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

distant;  Johnson's  at  Greenville,  and  Early's  near 
York.  General  Early  levied  for  and  obtained  from 
the  city  of  York  several  thousand  pairs  of  shoes  and 
socks  and  a  less  number  of  hats  for  his  men,  and 
$26,000  in  money. 

The  different  portions  of  the  Federal  army  at 
this  time  were  spread  out  over  a  large  area,  south 
and  east  of  Gettysburg.  To  the  absence  of  our  cav 
alry,  whose  whereabouts  since  crossing  the  Potomac 
had  not  been  known  by  General  Lee,  was  due  the 
ignorance  as  to  the  location  of  the  Federals,  causing 
loss  of  time  and  the  employment  of  other  troops  to 
do  wrhat  the  cavalry  should  have  done.  It  is  gener 
ally  conceded  that  until  they  found  themselves  face 
to  face  the  commander  of  neither  army  expected  or 
desired  this  locality  to  be  the  battle-ground.  And 
when  we  consider  the  fact  that  armies  have  been 
known  to  maneuver  for  weeks  for  a  vantage  ground 
on  which  to  give  battle,  we  can  realize  the  import 
ance  of  this  seeming  accident,  which  sealed  the  doom 
of  the  Confederacy.  For  if  the  whole  State  of 
Pennsylvania  had  been  gone  over,  it  is  probable  that 
no  other  place  could  have  been  found  which  afforded 
such  advantages  as  did  this  to  the  Northern  army. 

Early's  division  had  passed  it  several  days  before 
on  his  way  to  York,  and  Pettigrew's  brigade  of 
Hill's  corps  on  July  1,  while  approaching  in  search 
of  shoes  for  his  men,  encountered  Buford's  Federal 
cavalry,  precipitating  the  first  day's  conflict,  in  which 
Hill's  corps,  Rodes's  and  Early's  divisions  captured 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      195 

5,000  prisoners  and  drove  the  Federals  through  the 
town  to  the  heights  beyond.  Our  battalion  of  artil 
lery,  soon  after  dark,  passed  southward  through  the 
outskirts  of  the  town  with  Early 's  division  and 
bivouacked  for  the  night.  By  dawn  of  the  follow 
ing  day  (July  2)  sufficient  of  the  Federal  army  had 
arrived  to  occupy  and  fortify  the  heights.  From 
where  our  battery  was  posted,  a  mile  east  of  the 
town,  we  had  in  full  view  the  end  of  Cemetery  Hill, 
with  an  arched  gateway  for  an  entrance.  To  the 
left  of  it  and  joined  by  a  depressed  ridge  was  Gulp's 
Hill,  steep  and  rugged  as  a  mountain,  all  now  held 
and  fortified  by  the  enemy.  Jackson's  old  division, 
now  commanded  by  Gen.  Ed.  Johnson,  having  ar 
rived  late  in  the  night,  formed  at  the  base  of  Gulp's 
Hill,  and  before  an  hour  of  daylight  had  elapsed 
had  stirred  up  a  hornets'  nest  in  their  front. 

I  must  mention  an  incident  that  occurred  during 
this  forenoon  quite  interesting  to  myself.  As  wre 
were  standing  by  our  guns,  not  yet  having  fired  a 
shot,  General  Ewell  and  his  staff  came  riding  by, 
and  Lieut. -Col.  Sandy  Pendleton,  his  adjutant,  rode 
out  from  among  them  and  handed  me  two  letters. 
To  receive  two  letters  in  the  army  at  any  time  was 
an  event,  but  here,  away  in  the  enemy's  country,  in 
the  face  of  their  frowning  guns,  for  them  to  have 
come  so  far  and  then  be  delivered  at  the  hands  of  the 
General  and  his  staff  was  quite  something.  One  of 
the  letters  I  recognized  as  being  from  my  mother, 
the  other  aroused  my  curiosity.  The  envelope,  di- 


196     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

rected  in  a  feminine  hand,  was  very  neat,  but  the 
end  had  been  burned  off  and  the  contents  were  held 
in  place  by  a  narrow  red  ribbon  daintily  tied.  In 
so  conspicuous  a  place,  with  a  battle  on,  I  could  not 
trust  myself  to  open  my  treasures.  It  was  near 
night  before  a  suitable  time  came,  and  my  billet-doux 
contained  the  following: 

You  are  cordially  invited  to  be  present 
at  the  Commencement  Exercises  of  the 
-  Female  Seminary,  on  the  evening 
of  July  $rd;  1863,  at  eight  o'clock  p.  M. 
Compliments  of  Gertrude  -  — . 

My  feelings  were  inexpressible.  How  I  longed 
to  be  there!  To  think  of  such  a  place  of  quiet  and 
peace  as  compared  with  my  surroundings  on  this 
bloody  battlefield ! 

But  to  return  to  the  serious  features  of  the  day. 
With  the  exception  of  the  steady  musketry  firing 
by  Johnson's  men  on  Gulp's  Hill,  the  day  passed 
quietly  until  nearly  four  o'clock.  At  this  time  An 
drew's  battalion  of  artillery,  led  by  Major  Latimer, 
passed  in  front  of  us  and  went  into  position  two 
hundred  yards  to  our  left,  and  nearer  the  enemy. 
The  ground  sloped  so  as  to  give  us  a  perfect  view  of 
his  four  batteries.  Promptly  other  batteries  joined 
those  confronting  us  on  Cemetery  Hill,  and  by  the 
time  Latimer's  guns  were  unlimbered  the  guns  on 
both  sides  were  thundering. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON      197 

In  less  than  five  minutes  one  of  Latimer's  caissons 
was  exploded,  which  called  forth  a  lusty  cheer  from 
the  enemy.  In  five  minutes  more  a  Federal  caisson 
was  blown  up,  which  brought  forth  a  louder  cheer 
from  us.  In  this  action  Latimer's  batteries  suffered 
fearfully,  the  Alleghany  Roughs  alone  losing  twenty- 
seven  men  killed  and  wounded.  Only  one  or  two 
were  wounded  in  our  battery,  the  proximity  of  Lati 
mer's  guns  drawing  the  fire  to  them.  Near  the  close 
of  the  engagement,  Latimer,  who  was  a  graduate 
of  the  Virginia  Military  Institute,  a  mere  youth  in 
appearance,  was  killed. 

The  artillery  contest  was  a  small  part  of  the 
afternoon's  work.  One  of  Johnson's  brigades,  after 
capturing  breastworks  and  prisoners  on  Gulp's  Hill, 
pushed  nearly  to  General  Meade's  headquarters. 
Rodes,  usually  so  prompt,  was  occupying  the  town 
and  failed  to  attack  till  late,  and  then  with  but  two 
of  his  four  brigades ;  but  they  charged  over  three 
lines  of  breastworks  and  captured  several  pieces  of 
artillery,  which  had  to  be  abandoned  for  want  of 
support.  Sickles's  corps,  having  occupied  the  two 
"Round  Tops"  on  the  extreme  left  of  the  Federal 
line,  advanced  on  Longstreet,  and  at  four  p.  M.  the 
two  lines  met  in  the  celebrated  "Peach  Orchard," 
and  from  that  time  until  night  fought  furiously,  the 
Federals  being  driven  back  to  their  original  ground. 

At  the  close  of  the  second  clay  the  Confederates 
had  gained  ground  on  the  right  and  left,  and  cap 
tured  some  artillery,  but  still  nothing  decisive.  An- 


198     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

other  night  passed,  and  the  third  and  last  day 
dawned  on  two  anxious  armies.  Pickett,  after  a 
mysterious  delay  of  twenty- four  hours,  arrived  dur 
ing  the  forenoon  and  became  the  left  of  Longstreet's 
corps.  At  twelve  o'clock  word  was  passed  along  our 
lines  that  when  two  signal-guns  were  heard,  fol 
lowed  by  heavy  firing,  to  open  vigorously  with  our 
guns.  There  was  no  mistaking  when  that  time  came, 
and  we  joined  with  the  three  hundred  guns  that 
made  the  firing.  For  an  hour  or  more  a  crash  and 
roar  of  artillery  continued  that  rolled  and  reverber 
ated  above,  and  made  the  earth  under  us  tremble. 
When  it  began  there  was  great  commotion  among 
the  enemy's  batteries  in  our  front,  some  of  which 
limbered  up  and  galloped  along  the  crest  of  Ceme 
tery  Hill,  but  soon  returned  and  renewed  their  fire 
on  us. 

So  far  they  had  failed  to  do  our  battery  any 
serious  harm,  but  now  each  volley  of  their  shells 
came  closer  and  closer.  At  this  time  my  attention 
was  attracted  to  the  second  piece,  a  few  paces  to  our 
left,  and  I  saw  a  shell  plow  into  the  ground  under 
Lieutenant  Brown's  feet  and  explode.  It  tore  a 
large  hole,  into  which  Brown  sank,  enveloped  as  he 
fell  in  smoke  and  dust.  In  an  instant  another  shell 
burst  at  the  trail  of  my  gun,  tearing  the  front  half 
of  Tom  Williamson's  shoe  off,  and  wounding  him 
sorely.  A  piece  of  it  also  broke  James  Ford's  leg, 
besides  cutting  off  the  fore  leg  of  Captain  Graham's 
horse.  Ford  was  holding  the  lead-horses  of  the 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     199 

limber,  and,  as  they  wheeled  to  run,  their  bridles 
were  seized  by  Rader,  a  shell  struck  the  horse  nearest 
to  him,  and,  exploding  at  the  instant,  killed  all  four 
of  the  lead-horses  and  stunned  Rader.  These  same 
horses  and  this  driver  had  very  nearly  a  similar  ex 
perience  (though  not  so  fatal)  at  Sharpsburg  a  year 
before,  as  already  described.  Sam  Wilson,  another 
member  of  our  detachment,  was  also  painfully 
wounded  and  knocked  down  by  the  same  shell. 

This  artillery  bombardment  was  the  prelude  to 
Pickett's  charge,  which  took  place  on  the  opposite 
side  of  Cemetery  Hill,  and  out  of  our  view.  Gulp's 
Hill,  since  the  early  morning  previous,  had  been 
enveloped  in  a  veil  of  smoke  from  Johnson's  musk 
ets,  which  had  scarcely  had  time  to  cool  during  the 
thirty-six  hours. 

The  men  of  the  Fourth  Virginia  Regiment  had 
been  gradually  and  steadily  advancing  from 
boulder  to  boulder,  until  they  were  almost  under  the 
enemy's  fortifications  along  the  crest  of  the  ridge. 
To  proceed  farther  was  physically  impossible,  to  re 
treat  was  almost  certain  death.  So,  of  the  College 

o 

company  alone,  one  of  whom  had  already  been  killed 
and  many  wounded,  sixteen,  including  Captain 
Strickler,  were  captured.  To  John  McKee,  of  this 
company,  a  stalwart  Irish  Federal  said  as  he  reached 
out  to  pull  him  up  over  the  breastworks,  "Gim-me 
your  hand,  Johnny  Reb ;  you've  give'  us  the  bulliest 
fight  of  the  war!" 

Lieutenant  "Gush"  Jones  determined  to  run  the 


200     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

gauntlet  for  escape,  and  as  he  darted  away  the 
point  of  his  scabbard  struck  a  stone,  and  throwing 
it  inverted  above  his  head,  lost  out  his  handsome 
sword.  Three  bullets  passed  through  his  clothing  in 
his  flight,  and  the  boulder  behind  which  he  next  took 
refuge  was  peppered  by  others.  Here,  also,  my 
former  messmate,  George  Bedinger,  now  captain  of 
a  company  in  the  Thirty-third  Virginia  Regiment, 
was  killed,  leading  his  "Greeks,"  as  he  called  his 
men. 

About  nine  o'clock  that  evening,  and  before  we 
had  moved  from  our  position,  I  received  a  message, 
through  Captain  Graham,  from  some  of  the  wounded 
of  our  company,  to  go  to  them  at  their  field-hospital. 
Following  the  messenger,  I  found  them  in  charge  of 
our  surgeon,  Dr.  Herndon,  occupying  a  neat  brick 
cottage  a  mile  in  the  rear,  from  which  the  owners 
had  fled,  leaving  a  well-stocked  larder,  and  from  it 
we  refreshed  ourselves  most  gratefully.  Toward 
midnight  orders  came  to  move.  The  ambulances 
were  driven  to  the  door  and,  after  the  wounded, 
some  eight  or  ten  in  number,  had  been  assisted  into 
them,  I  added  from  the  stores  in  the  house  a  bucket 
of  lard,  a  crock  of  butter,  a  jar  of  apple-butter,  a 
ham,  a  middling  of  bacon,  and  a  side  of  sole-leather. 
All  for  the  wounded ! 

Feeling  assured  that  we  would  not  tarry  much 
longer  in  Pennsylvania,  and  expecting  to  reach  the 
battery  before  my  services  would  be  needed,  I  set 
out  with  the  ambulances.  We  moved  on  until  day- 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     201 

light  and  joined  the  wounded  of  the  other  batteries 
of  our  battalion,  and  soon  after  left,  at  a  house  by 
the  wayside,  a  member  of  the  Richmond  Howitzers 
who  was  dying.  Our  course  was  along  a  by-road 
in  the  direction  of  Hagerstown.  In  the  afternoon, 
after  joining  the  wagon-train,  I  found  "Joe,"  the 
colored  cook  of  my  mess,  in  possession  of  a  super 
numerary  battery-horse,  which  I  appropriated  and 
mounted.  Our  column  now  consisted  of  ambulances 
loaded  with  wounded  men,  wounded  men  on  foot, 
cows,  bulls,  quartermasters,  portable  forges,  sur 
geons,  cooks,  and  camp-followers  in  general,  all 
plodding  gloomily  along  through  the  falling  rain. 
We  arrived  at  the  base  of  the  mountain  about 
five  P.  M.  and  began  ascending  by  a  narrow  road, 
leading  obliquely  to  the  left.  Before  proceeding 
farther  some  description  of  the  horse  I  was  riding- 
is  appropriate,  as  he  proved  an  important  factor  in 
my  experiences  before  the  night  was  over.  He  was 
the  tallest  horse  I  ever  saw  outside  of  a  show,  with 
a  very  short  back  and  exceedingly  long  legs,  which 
he  handled  peculiarly,  going  several  gaits  at  one 
time.  Many  a  cannoneer  had  sought  rest  on  his 
back  on  the  march,  but  none  had  ventured  on  so 
high  a  perch  when  going  into  battle.  When  half 
way  up  the  mountain  we  heard  to  our  left  oblique 
the  distant  mutter  of  a  cannon,  then  in  a  few  mo 
ments  the  sound  was  repeated,  but  we  thought  it 
was  safely  out  of  our  course  and  felt  correspond 
ingly  comfortable.  At  intervals  the  report  of  that 


202     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

gun  was  heard  again  and  again.  About  dusk  we 
reached  the  top  of  the  mountain,  after  many,  many 
halts,  and  the  sound  of  that  cannon  became  more 
emphatic. 

After  descending  a  few  hundred  yards  there  came 
from  a  bridle-path  on  our  left,  just  as  I  passed  it, 
three  cavalry  horses  with  empty  saddles.  This  was 
rather  ominous.  The  halts  in  the  mixed  column 
were  now  frequent,  darkness  having  set  in,  and  we 
had  but  little  to  say.  That  cannon  had  moved  more 
to  our  front,  and  our  road  bore  still  more  to  where 
it  was  thundering.  We  were  now  almost  at  the  foot 
of  the  mountain,  and  to  the  left,  nearer  our  front, 
were  scattering  musket-shots.  Our  halts  were  still 
short  and  frequent,  and  in  the  deep  shadow  of  the 
mountain  it  was  pitch-dark.  All  of  this  time  I  had 
not  a  particle  of  confidence  in  my  horse.  I  could 
not  tell  what  was  before  me  in  the  dense  darkness, 
whether  friend  or  foe,  but  suddenly,  after  pausing 
an  instant,  he  dashed  forward.  For  fifty  or  seventy- 
five  yards  every  other  sound  was  drowned  by  a  roar 
ing  waterfall  on  my  right;  then,  emerging  from  its 
noise,  I  was  carried  at  a  fearful  rate  close  by  dis 
mounted  men  who  were  firing  from  behind  trees 
along  the  roadside,  the  flashes  of  their  guns,  "whose 
speedy  gleams  the  darkness  swallowed,"  revealing 
me  on  my  tall  horse  with  his  head  up.  He  must  see 
safety  ahead,  and  I  let  him  fly. 

A  hundred  yards  farther  on  our  road  joined  the 
main  pike  at  an  acute  angle,  and  entering  it  he  swept 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     203 

on.  Then,  just  behind  me,  a  Federal  cannon  was 
discharged.  The  charge  of  canister  tore  through 
the  brush  on  either  side,  and  over  and  under  me,  and 
at  the  same  instant  my  steed's  hind  leg  gave  way, 
and  my  heart  sank  with  it.  If  struck  at  all,  he 
immediately  rallied  and  outran  himself  as  well  as 
his  competitors.  After  getting  out  of  the  range  of 
the  firing  and  the  shadow  of  the  mountain,  I  saw 
indistinctly  our  cavalrymen  along  the  side  of  the 
road,  and  we  bantered  each  other  as  I  passed. 

Farther  on,  at  a  toll-gate,  I  heard  the  voice  of 
Tom  Williamson.  His  ambulance  had  broken  down 
and  he  was  being  assisted  toward  the  house.  I  drew 
rein,  but  thought,  "How  can  I  help  him?  This 
horse  must  be  well-nigh  done  for,"  and  rode  on. 
Since  reaching  the  foot  of  the  mountain  the  way 
had  been  open  and  everything  on  it  moving  for  life. 
But  again  the  road  was  full,  and  approaching  clat 
ter,  with  the  sharp  reports  of  pistols,  brought  on 
another  rush,  and  away  we  went — wagons,  wounded 
men,  negroes,  forges,  ambulances,  cavalry — every 
thing. 

This  in  time  subsided  and,  feeling  ashamed,  I 
turned  back  to  look  after  my  wounded,  my  horse 
as  reluctant  as  myself,  and  expecting  every  moment 
the  sound  of  the  coming  foe.  A  sudden  snort  and 
the  timid  step  of  my  nervous  steed  warned  me  of 
breakers  ahead.  Peering  through  the  darkness  I 
saw  coming  toward  me,  noisless  and  swift  as  the 
wind,  an  object  white  as  the  driven  snow.  "What," 


204     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

I  asked  myself,  "are  ghosts  abroad,  and  in  such  a 
place?  Is  Gettysburg  giving  up  her  dead  so  soon?" 
But,  as  the  thing  met  me,  a  voice  cried  out,  "It  that 
you,  Ned?  Is  that  you?  Take  me  on  your  horse. 
Let  me  get  in  the  saddle  and  you  behind."  For  a 
moment  I  was  dumb,  and  wished  it  wasn't  I.  The 
voice  was  the  voice  of  Lieutenant  Brown,  the  same 
whom  I  had  seen  undermined  by  the  shell  at  Gettys 
burg,  and  who  had  not  put  a  foot  to  the  ground  until 
now.  Barefooted,  bareheaded;  nothing  on  but 
drawers  and  shirt — white  as  a  shroud !  The  pros 
pect  that  now  confronted  me  instantly  flashed 
through  my  mind.  First,  "Can  this  horse  carry 
two?"  Then  I  pictured  myself  with  such  a  looking 
object  in  my  embrace,  and  with  nothing  with  which 
to  conceal  him.  There  were  settlements  ahead,  day 
light  was  approaching,  and  what  a  figure  we  would 
cut!  It  was  too  much  for  me,  and  I  said,  "No, 
get  on  behind,"  feeling  that  the  specter  might  retard 
the  pursuing  foe.  But  my  tall  horse  solved  the  diffi 
culty.  Withdrawing  my  foot  from  the  stirrup, 
Brown  would  put  his  in  and  try  to  climb  up,  when 
suddenly  the  horse  would  "swap  ends,"  and  down 
he'd  go.  Again  he  would  try  and  almost  make  it, 
and  the  horse  not  wheeling  quickly  enough  I  would 
give  him  the  hint  with  my  "off"  heel.  My  relief 
can  be  imagined  when  an  ambulance  arrived  and  took 
Brown  in.  I  accompanied  him  for  a  short  distance, 
then  quickened  my  pace  and  overtook  the  train. 
Presently  another  clatter  behind  and  the  popping  of 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     205 

pistols.  Riding  at  my  side  was  a  horseman,  and  by 
the  flash  of  his  pistol  I  saw  it  pointing  to  the  ground 
at  our  horses'  feet. 

Reaching  the  foot  of  a  hill,  my  horse  stumbled 
and  fell  as  if  to  rise  no  more.  I  expected  to  be 
instantly  trampled  out  of  sight.  I  heard  a  groan, 
but  not  where  the  horse's  head  should  have  been. 
Resting  my  feet  on  the  ground,  thus  relieving  him 
of  my  weight,  he  got  his  head  from  under  him  and 
floundered  forward,  then  to  his  feet  and  away.  Far 
ther  on,  a  swift  horse  without  a  rider  was  dashing 
by  me.  I  seized  what  I  supposed  to  be  his  bridle- 
rein,  but  it  proved  to  be  the  strap  on  the  saddle-bow, 
and  the  pull  I  gave  came  near  unhorsing  me. 

The  pursuit  continued  no  farther.  Not  having 
slept  for  two  days  and  nights,  I  could  not  keep 
awake,  and  my  game  old  horse,  now  wearied  out, 
would  stagger  heedlessly  against  the  wheels  of  mov 
ing  wagons.  Just  at  dawn  of  day,  in  company  with 
a  few  horsemen  of  our  battalion,  I  rode  through  the 
quiet  streets  of  Hagerstown,  thence  seven  miles  to 
Williamsport. 

The  wounded  of  our  battalion  had  all  been  cap 
tured.  A  few,  however,  were  not  carried  off,  but 
left  until  our  army  came  up.  Some  of  the  cooks, 
etc.,  escaped  by  dodging  into  the  brush,  but  many  a 
good  horse  and  rider  had  been  run  down  and  taken. 
At  Williamsport  I  exchanged  horses  with  an  in 
fantryman  while  he  was  lying  asleep  on  a  porch, 
and  had  completed  the  transaction  before  he  was 
sufficiently  awake  to  remonstrate. 


206     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

It  must  not  be  supposed  from  the  experience  we 
had  undergone  that  our  army  was  at  all  demoralized. 
The  battle  closed  on  July  3rd.  On  the  next  day  our 
lines  began  to  withdraw,  Swell's  corps  holding  its 
ground  till  near  noon  of  the  5th.  The  Federal  com 
mander,  though  repeatedly  urged  by  the  Washing 
ton  authorities  to  do  so,  declined  to  attack  during 
that  time.  Our  army  was  prevented  from  crossing 
the  Potomac,  swollen  by  heavy  rains,  till  the  14th, 
meantime  not  only  offering  but  inviting  battle,  which 
was  steadily  declined. 

We  were  now  entirely  cut  off  from  our  army,  and 
with  what  of  the  wagons,  etc.,  that  remained  were 
at  the  mercy  of  the  enemy,  as  the  Potomac  was 
swollen  to  a  depth  of  twenty  feet  where  I  had  waded 
a  year  before.  Most  of  the  horses  had  to  be  swum 
over,  as  there  was  little  room  in  the  ferry-boats  for 
them.  The  river  was  so  high  that  this  was  very 
dangerous,  and  only  expert  swimmers  dared  to  un 
dertake  it.  Twenty  dollars  was  paid  for  swimming 
a  horse  over,  and  I  saw  numbers  swept  down  by  the 
current  and  landed  hundreds  of  yards  below,  many 
on  the  side  from  which  they  had  started.  I  crossed 
in  a  ferry-boat  on  my  recently  acquired  horse,  hav 
ing  left  my  faithful  old  charger,  his  head  encased 
in  mud  to  the  tips  of  his  ears,  with  mingled  feelings 
of  sadness  and  gratitude. 

A  great  curiosity  to  understand  this  battle  and 
battlefield  induced  me  to  visit  it  at  the  first  oppor 
tunity,  and  in  1887,  twenty-four  years  after  it  was 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     207 

fought,  I,  with  Colonel  Poague,  gladly  accepted  an 
invitation  from  the  survivors  of  Pickett's  division 
to  go  with  them  to  Gettysburg,  whither  they  had 
been  invited  to  meet  the  Philadelphia  Brigade,  as 
their  guests,  and  go  over  the  battlefield  together. 
After  our  arrival  there,  in  company  with  two  officers 
of  the  Philadelphia  Brigade,  one  of  Pickett's  men 
and  an  intelligent  guide,  I  drove  over  the  field.  As 
a  part  of  our  entertainment  we  saw  the  Pickett  men 
formed  on  the  same  ground  and  in  the  same  order 
in  which  they  had  advanced  to  the  charge.  Farther 
on  we  saw  the  superb  monuments,  marking  the  loca 
tion  of  the  different  Federal  regiments,  presenting 
the  appearance  of  a  vast  cemetery.  The  position 
held  by  the  Federals  for  defense  was  perfect.  Its 
extent  required  the  whole  of  the  Confederate  army 
present  to  occupy  the  one  line  they  first  adopted,  with 
no  troops  to  spare  for  flanking.  Its  shape,  some 
what  like  a  fish-hook,  enabled  the  Federal  army  to 
reinforce  promptly  any  part  that  was  even  threat 
ened.  Its  terrain  was  such  that  the  only  ground 
sufficiently  smooth  for  an  enemy  to  advance  on, 
that  in  front  of  its  center,  was  exposed  throughout, 
not  only  to  missiles  from  its  front,  but  could  be 
raked  from  the  heights  on  its  left.  And,  in  addition 
to  all  this,  the  whole  face  of  the  country,  when  the 
battle  was  fought,  was  closely  intersected  with  post 
and  rail  and  stone  fences. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

AT  "THE  BOWER" — RETURN  TO  ORANGE  COUNTY, 
VIRGINIA BLUE  RUN  CHURCH BRISTOW  STA 
TION RAPPAHANNOCK  BRIDGE SUPPLEMENT 
ING  CAMP  RATIONS 

To  RETURN  to  my  retreat  from  Gettysburg.  The 
clothes  that  I  wore  were  all  that  I  now  possessed. 
My  blanket,  extra  wearing  apparel,  lard,  apple-but 
ter,  sole-leather,  etc.,  with  the  wounded,  were  in  the 
hands  of  the  Federals.  Being  completely  cut  off 
from  our  army,  I  set  out  for  Winchester.  Near 
Martinsburg  I  passed  the  night  sleeping  on  the 
ground — my  first  sleep  in  sixty  hours — and  reached 
Winchester  the  following  day.  In  a  day  or  two, 
thinking  our  army  had  probably  reached  the  Poto 
mac,  I  turned  back  to  join  it.  On  my  way  thither 
I  called  at  "The  Bower,"  the  home  of  my  messmate, 
Steve  Dandridge.  This  was  a  favorite  resort  of 
Gen.  J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  where,  accompanied  by  the 
celebrated  banjoist,  Joe  Sweeny,  merry  nights  were 
passed  with  song  and  dance.  I  was  overwhelmed 
with  kindness  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dandridge,  their 
daughters,  nieces,  and  cousins.  The  last  named  be 
ing  two  Misses  Conrad,  of  Martinsburg,  whose  two 
brothers,  Tucker  and  Holmes,  had  been  killed  at  the 
same  instant  at  first  Manassas,  and  fell  clasped  in 

208 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     209 

each  other's  arms.  They  would  not  hear  of  my  leav 
ing  ;  at  any  rate,  until  they  had  time  to  make  me  some 
undergarments.  In  the  afternoon  I  accompanied 
the  young  ladies  to  the  fields  blackberrying,  and  had 
some  jolly  laughs.  They  felt  that  a  Confederate 
soldier  should  be  treated  like  a  king,  that  he  must  be 
worn  out  with  marching  and  fighting.  They  insisted 
on  my  sitting  in  the  shade  while  they  gathered  and 
brought  me  the  choicest  berries,  and  actually  wanted 
to  let  the  fences  down,  to  save  me  the  effort  of  climb 
ing.  At  that  time  I  weighed  one  hundred  and  ninety 
pounds,  was  in  vigorous  health  and  strength,  tough 
as  hickory,  and  could  go  over  or  through  a  Virginia 
rail  fence  as  deftly  as  a  mule.  It  was  some  days 
before  our  army  could  recross  the  Potomac,  on  ac 
count  of  high  water.  As  I  rode  in,  on  my  return  to 
the  battery,  I  was  given  a  regular  cheer,  all  thinking 
that  I  was  probably,  by  that  time,  in  Fort  Delaware. 
Our  wounded  had  been  captured  in  Pennsylvania, 
except  Tom  \Villiamson,  who  was  left  at  the  toll 
house  and  picked  up  as  our  battery  came  by.  As  he 
had  become  my  bedfellow  since  Stuart's  death,  I  was 
sent  with  him  to  Winchester,  where  I  cared  for  him 
at  the  home  of  Airs.  Anne  Magill.  During  my  stay 
Randolph  Tucker,  a  brother  of  Airs.  Magill,  and 
Bishop  Wilmer,  of  Alabama,  were  guests  in  the 
house,  and  Mr.  Tucker  kept  the  household  alive  with 
his  songs  and  jokes.  After  a  week  or  more  in  camp, 
near  Bunker  Hill,  our  despondent  army  passed 
through  Winchester,  thence  by  Front  Royal  across 


210     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

the  Blue  Ridge,  and  encamped  for  the  remainder  of 
the  summer  in  Orange  County,  with  men  and  horses 
greatly  depleted  in  number  and  spirits. 

Our  battery  camped  at  Blue  Run  Church  and  near 
a  field  of  corn.  Roasting  ears  afforded  the  chief 
portion  of  our  living.  It  was  surprising  to  see  how 
much,  in  addition  to  the  army  rations,  a  man  could 
consume  day  after  day,  or  rather  night  after  night, 
with  no  especial  alteration  in  his  physique. 

Soup  was  a  favorite  dish,  requiring,  as  it  did,  but 
one  vessel  for  all  the  courses,  and  the  more  ingre 
dients  it  contained,  the  more  it  was  relished.  Mer- 
rick  claimed  to  be  an  adept  in  the  culinary  art,  and 
proposed  to  several  of  us  that  if  we  would  "club  in" 
with  him  he  would  concoct  a  pot  that  would  be  food 
for  the  gods.  He  was  to  remain  in  camp,  have  the 
water  boiling,  and  the  meat  sufficiently  cooked  by 
the  time  the  others  returned  from  their  various 
rounds  in  search  of  provender.  In  due  time,  one 
after  another,  the  foragers  showed  up,  having  been 
very  successful  in  their  acquisitions,  which,  accord 
ing  to  Merrick's  directions,  were  consigned  to  the 
pot.  As  some  fresh  contribution,  which  he  regarded 
as  especially  savory,  was  added,  Merrick's  counten 
ance  would  brighten  up.  At  one  time  he  sat  quietly 
musing,  then  gave  expression  to  his  joy  in  an  Irish 
ditty.  His  handsome  suit  of  clothes,  donned  at 
Hagerstown,  was  now  in  tatters,  which  made  his 
appearance  the  more  ludicrous  as  he  "cut  the  pigeon- 
wing'.'  around  the  seething  cauldron.  He  had  par- 


JOHN    M.    HKOWN 
(War-time  portrait) 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     211 

ticularly  enjoined  upon  us,  when  starting  out,  to 
procure,  at  all  hazards,  some  okra,  which  we  failed 
to  get,  and,  in  naming  aloud  the  various  items,  as 
each  appeared  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  he  wound 
up  his  soliloquy  with,  "And  now,  Lord,  for  a  little 
okra!" 

In  September  the  army  moved  again  toward  Ma- 
nassas,  about  seventy  miles  distant.  When  we  ar 
rived  at  Bristow,  the  next  station  south  of  Manassas, 
an  engagement  had  just  taken  place,  in  which  Gen. 
A.  P.  Hill  had  been  disastrously  outwitted  by  his 
adversary,  General  Warren,  and  the  ground  was  still 
strewn  with  our  dead.  The  Federals  were  drawn  up 
in  two  lines  of  battle,  the  one  in  front  being  con 
cealed  in  the  railroad-cut,  while  the  rear  line,  with 
skirmishers  in  front,  stood  in  full  view.  The  Con 
federates,  unaware  of  the  line  in  the  cut,  advanced 
to  the  attack  without  skirmishers  and  were  terribly 
cut  up  by  the  front  line,  and  driven  back,  with  a  loss 
of  several  pieces  of  artillery  and  scores  of  men.  The 
delay  caused  by  this  unfortunate  affair  gave  the  Fed 
eral  army  ample  time  to  withdraw  at  leisure.  Gen 
eral  Lee  arrived  on  the  scene  just  at  the  close  of 
this  affair  and  was  asked,  by  General  Hill,  if  he 
should  pursue  the  then  retreating  Federals.  He  re 
plied,  "No,  General  Hill;  all  that  can  now  be  done 
is  to  bury  your  unfortunate  dead." 

After  this  we  returned  to  the  west  side  of  the 
Rappahannock  and  encamped  at  Pisgah  Church, 
overlooking  the  plains  about  Brandy  Station.  As 


212     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

the  war  was  prolonged,  Confederate  rations  pro 
portionately  diminished,  both  in  quantity  and 
variety.  Consequently,  to  escape  the  pangs  of  hun 
ger,  the  few  opportunities  that  presented  themselves 
were  gladly  seized.  In  the  absence  of  the  sports 
men  of  peace  times,  game  had  become  quite  abund 
ant,  especially  quail.  But  our  "murmurings,"  if 
any  there  were,  did  not  avail,  as  did  those  of  the 
Israelites,  "to  fill  the  camp."  I  soon  succeeded  in 
getting  an  Enfield  rifle,  a  gun  not  designed  for  such 
small  game.  By  beating  Minie-balls  out  flat,  then 
cutting  the  plates  into  square  blocks  or  slugs,  I  pre 
pared  my  ammunition,  and  in  the  first  eleven  shots 
killed  nine  quail  on  the  wing.  I  was  shooting  for 
the  pot,  and  shot  to  kill. 

From  this  camp  our  battery  was  ordered  to  occupy 
a  fort  on  the  west  side  of  the  river,  near  Rappahan- 
nock  Station.  Immediately  across  the  river  Hayes's 
and  Hoke's  brigades  of  Early's  division  occupied  a 
line  of  breastworks  as  a  picket  or  outpost.  A  pon 
toon  bridge  (a  bridge  of  boats),  in  place  of  the  rail 
road  bridge,  which  had  been  burned,  served  as  a 
crossing.  While  a  dozen  or  more  of  our  battery 
were  a  mile  in  the  rear  of  the  fort,  getting  a  supply 
of  firewood,  another  member  of  the  company  came 
to  us  at  a  gallop,  with  orders  to  return  as  quickly 
as  possible  to  the  fort.  On  our  arrival  the  indica 
tions  of  an  attack  from  the  enemy  were  very  appar 
ent.  They  must  have  anticipated  immense  slaughter, 
as  no  less  than  a  hundred  of  their  ambulances  were 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     213 

plainly  visible.  About  four  p.  M.  they  opened  on  us 
with  artillery,  and  from  that  time  until  sundown 
a  spirited  contest  was  kept  up.  While  this  was  in 
progress  their  infantry  advanced,  but,  after  a  brief 
but  rapid  fire  of  musketry,  almost  perfect  quiet  was 
restored. 

While  working  at  my  gun  I  received  what  I 
thought  to  be  a  violent  kick  on  the  calf  of  my  leg, 
but,  turning  to  discover  whence  the  blow  came,  saw 
a  Minie-ball  spinning  on  the  ground.  It  was  very 
painful  for  a  time,  but  did  not  interrupt  my  service 
at  the  gun.  It  was  too  dark  for  us  to  see  what  was 
going  on  across  the  river,  but  the  sudden  and  com 
plete  stillness  following  the  firing  was  very  mys 
terious.  While  speculating  among  ourselves  as  to 
what  it  meant,  a  half -naked  infantryman  came 
almost  breathless  into  our  midst  and  announced  that 
both  brigades  had  been  captured,  he  having  escaped 
by  swimming  the  river.  One  of  our  lieutenants  re 
fused  to  believe  his  statement  and  did  the  worthy 
fellow  cruel  injustice  in  accusing  him  of  skulking. 
That  his  story  was  true  soon  became  evident.  Our 
situation  was  now  extremely  dangerous,  as  the  Fed 
erals  had  only  to  cross  on  the  pontoon  bridge  a  hun 
dred  yards  from  the  fort  and  "gobble  us  up."  About 
nine  o'clock  General  Early,  with  his  other  two  bri 
gades,  arrived.  After  acquainting  himself  with  the 
surrounding  conditions,  he  asked  our  batterymen 
for  a  volunteer  to  burn  the  bridge.  To  accomplish 
this  would  involve  extreme  danger,  as  the  moment 


214    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

a  light  was  struck  for  the  purpose  a  hundred  shots 
could  be  expected  from  the  opposite  end,  not  more 
than  seventy-five  yards  away.  However,  William 
Effinger,  of  Harrisonburg,  Virginia,  one  of  our  can 
noneers,  promptly  volunteered  to  undertake  it;  and 
soon  had  the  bridge  in  flames,  the  enemy  not  firing 
a  shot.  For  this  gallant  and  daring  act,  Effinger, 
after  a  long  time,  received  a  lieutenant's  commis 
sion  and  was  assigned  to  another  branch  of  the  ser 
vice. 

From  this  perilous  situation  we  came  off  surpris 
ingly  well,  but  lost  Robert  Bell,  of  Winchester,  Vir 
ginia.  He  was  struck  by  a  large  piece  of  shell, 
which  passed  through  his  body.  During  the  hour  he 
survived,  his  companions  who  could  leave  their  posts 
went  to  say  good-by.  He  was  a  brave  soldier  and  a 
modest,  unassuming  gentleman  as  well.  The  Fed 
erals,  satisfied  with  the  capture  of  the  two  celebrated 
brigades  without  loss  to  themselves,  withdrew — and 
again  we  returned  to  the  vicinity  of  Brandy  Station. 

In  an  artillery  company  two  sentinels  are  kept  on 
post — one  to  see  after  the  guns  and  ammunition, 
the  other  to  catch  and  tie  loose  horses  or  extricate 
them  when  tangled  in  their  halters,  and  the  like. 
Merrick's  name  and  mine,  being  together  on  the  roll, 
we  were  frequently  on  guard  at  the  same  time,  and, 
to  while  away  the  tedious  hours  of  the  night,  would 
seek  each  other's  company.  Our  turn  came  while  in 
this  camp  one  dark,  chilly  night ;  the  rain  falling  fast 
and  the  wind  moaning  through  the  leafless  woods. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     215 

As  we  stood  near  a  fitful  fire,  Merrick,  apparently 
becoming  oblivious  of  the  dismal  surroundings,  be 
gan  to  sing.  He  played  the  role  of  a  lover  serenad 
ing  his  sweetheart,  opening  with  some  lively  air  to 
attract  her  attention.  The  pattering  of  the  rain  he 
construed  as  her  tread  to  the  lattice ;  then  poured 
forth  his  soul  in  deepest  pathos,  "Hear  me,  Norma, 
in  pity  hear  me!"  (the  progress  of  his  suit  being  in 
terpreted,  aside,  to  me),  and  again  fixed  his  gaze  on 
the  imaginary  window.  Each  sound  made  by  the 
storm  he  explained  as  some  recognition ;  the  creak 
ing  of  a  bent  tree  was  the  gentle  opening  of  the  case 
ment,  and  the  timely  falling  of  a  bough  broken  by 
the  wind  was  a  bouquet  thrown  to  his  eager  grasp, 
over  which  he  went  into  raptures.  Whether  the  in 
spiration  was  due  to  a  taste  of  some  stimulant  or  to 
his  recurring  moods  of  intense  imagination,  I  could 
not  say,  but  the  performance  was  genuinely  artistic. 
During  the  last  night  of  our  sojourn  in  this  camp 
1  had  another  experience  of  as  fully  absorbing  in 
terest.  A  very  tough  piece  of  beef  (instead  of  quail) 
for  supper  proved  more  than  my  digestive  organs 
could  stand.  After  retiring  to  my  bunk  several 
sleepless  hours  passed  wrestling  with  my  burden. 
About  one  o'clock,  the  struggle  being  over,  with  an 
intense  feeling  of  comfort  I  was  falling  into  a  sound 
sleep  when  I  heard,  in  the  distance,  the  shrill  note  of 
a  bugle,  then  another  and  another,  as  camp  after 
camp  was  invaded  by  urgent  couriers ;  then  our  own 
bugle  took  up  the  alarm  and  sounded  the  call  to  hitch 


216     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

up.  Meantime,  drums  were  rolling,  till  the  hitherto 
stillness  of  night  had  become  a  din  of  noise.  We 
packed  up  and  pulled  out  through  the  woods  in  the 
dark,  with  gun  No.  1,  to  which  I  belonged,  the  rear 
one  of  the  battery.  A  small  bridge,  spanning  a  ditch 
about  five  feet  deep,  had  been  passed  over  safely  by 
the  other  guns  and  caissons  in  front,  but  when  my 
gun-carriage  was  midway  on  it  the  whole  structure 
collapsed.  The  struggle  the  detachment  of  men  and 
horses  underwent  during  the  rest  of  this  night  of 
travail  constituted  still  another  feature  of  the  vicissi 
tudes  of  "merry  war."  Fortunately  for  us,  Lieut. 
Jack  Jordan  was  in  charge,  and,  as  Rockbridge  men 
can  testify,  any  physical  difficulty  that  could  not  be 
successfully  overcome  by  a  Jordan,  where  men  and 
horses  were  involved,  might  well  be  despaired  of. 

After  reaching  the  Rapidan,  a  day  was  spent 
skirmishing  with  the  enemy's  artillery  on  the  hills 
beyond.  After  which  both  sides  withdrew — we  to 
our  former  camps. 

A  short  time  thereafter  I  called  on  my  old  friends 
of  the  College  company,  whom  we  seldom  met  since 
our  severance  from  the  Stonewall  Brigade.  Two  of 
these  college  boys,  Ted  ford  Barclay  and  George 
Chapin,  told  me  that  a  recent  provision  had  been 
announced,  to  the  effect  that  a  commission  would  be 
granted  to  any  private  who  should  perform  some  act 
of  conspicuous  gallantry  in  battle,  and  they  had  each 
resolved  to  earn  the  offered  reward,  and  to  be  pri 
vates  no  longer.  They  were  tired  of  carrying  musk- 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     217 

ets  and  cartridge-boxes;  and,  in  the  next  fight,  as 
they  expressed  it,  they  had  determined  to  be  "dis 
tinguished  or  extinguished." 

The  determined  manner  with  which  it  was  said 
impressed  me,  so  that  I  awaited  results  with  interest. 
A  fortnight  had  not  elapsed  before  their  opportunity 
came,  and  they  proved  true  to  their  resolve.  Under 
a  galling  fire  their  regiment  hesitated  to  advance, 
when  the  two  lads  pushed  to  the  front  of  the  line  of 
battle  and  climbed  an  intervening  fence.  Chapin 
was  killed,  and  Barclay,  who  survives  to  this  day, 
received  for  his  daring  courage  the  promised  com 
mission  as  lieutenant. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

BATTLE     OF     MINE     RUN MARCH     TO     FREDERICK^ 

HALL WINTER-QUARTERS SOCIAL     AFFAIRS— 

AGAIN   TO  THE     FRONT NARROW   ESCAPE   FROM 

CAPTURE  BY  GENERAL  DAHLGREN FURLOUGHS 

— CADETS  RETURN  FROM  NEW  MARKET SPOTT- 

SYLVANIA    AND    THE    WILDERNESS RETURN    TO 

ARMY      AT      HANOVER      JUNCTION PANIC      AT 

NIGHT 

THE  movement  in  which  we  were  next  engaged 
included  the  battle  of  Mine  Run,  which  has  been 
designated  by  a  military  critic  as  "a  campaign  of 
strategy,"  an  account  of  which  is,  therefore,  not 
within  my  province.  The  Federals  on  this  occasion 
did  most  of  the  marching  and,  after  crossing  the 
Rapidan  at  several  different  fords,  were  confronted 
not  far  from  our  quarters  at  Mine  Run,  in  Orange 
County.  After  breaking  camp  our  first  intimation 
that  a  battle  was  expected  was  the  invariable  pro 
fusion  of  playing-cards  along  the  road.  I  never  saw 
or  heard  of  a  Bible  or  prayer-book  being  cast  aside 
at  such  a  time,  but  cards  were  always  thrown  away 
by  soldiers  going  into  battle. 

After  a  spirited  engagement  between  Johnson's 
division  and  Warren's  corps,  the  Federals  lost  time 
sufficient  for  the  Confederates  to  construct  a  for- 

218 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     219 

midable  line  of  breastworks.  The  position  occupied 
by  our  battery  was  in  the  midst  of  a  brigade  of 
North  Carolinians  who  had  seen  some  service  in 
their  own  State,  but  had  never  participated  in  a  real 
battle.  From  a  Federal  shell,  which  burst  some  dis 
tance  overhead,  a  thin  piece  twirled  downward  and 
fell  like  a  leaf  within  a  few  feet  of  our  gun.  I  saw 
one  of  their  lieutenants,  who  was  lying  in  the  trench, 
eye  it  suspiciously,  then  creep  out  and  pick  it  up. 
Presently  the  colonel  of  his  regiment  passed  along 
and  the  lieutenant  said,  as  he  held  up  the  trophy, 
''Colonel,  just  look  at  this.  I  was  lying  right  here, 
and  it  fell  right  there."  This  brigade  had  no  occa 
sion  to  test  its  mettle  until  the  following  spring,  but 
then,  in  the  great  battle  of  Spottsylvania,  it  fought 
gallantly  and  lost  its  general  (Wright),  who  was 
killed. 

Naturally,  after  such  a  determined  advance  on 
the  part  of  the  Federals,  a  general  attack  was  ex 
pected;  but,  after  spending  two  days  threatening 
different  portions  of  our  lines,  they  withdrew  in  the 
night,  leaving  only  men  sufficient  to  keep  their  camp- 
fires  burning  for  a  time,  as  a  ruse.  The  road  along 
which  we  followed  them  for  some  miles  was  strewn 
at  intervals  with  feathers  from  the  beds  of  the  peo 
ple  whose  houses  they  had  ransacked. 

It  was  now  October,  and  the  chilly  autumn  nights 
suggested  retiring  to  more  comfortable  surround 
ings.  Our  battalion  of  artillery  was  ordered  to 
Frederick's  Hall,  on  the  Chesapeake  and  Ohio  Rail- 


220     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

road,  about  fifty  miles  from  Richmond.  In  this 
neighborhood  there  were  quite  a  number  of  nice  peo 
ple,  whose  society  and  hospitality  afforded  those  of 
us  so  inclined  much  agreeable  entertainment.  A 
white  paper-collar  became  no  unusual  sight,  but  when 
two  of  our  members  appeared  one  afternoon  adorned 
with  blue  cravats  a  sensation  was  created. 

A  member  of  our  battery  returned  from  a  visit  to 
a  family  of  former  acquaintances  some  twelve  miles 
from  camp,  and  brought  an  invitation  for  some  of 
his  friends  to  accompany  him  on  his  next  visit.  Soon 
thereafter  four  of  us  went,  through  a  drizzling  rain, 
I  riding  a  blind  horse,  the  others  on  foot.  Night 
overtook  us  soon  after  leaving  camp,  and  when, 
within  a  mile  of  our  destination,  we  asked  at  a  house 
by  the  roadside  for  directions  as  to  the  way,  a  gruff 
voice  informed  us  that  an  intervening  creek  was  too 
high  to  cross,  and  insisted  on  our  coming  in  and 
spending  the  night.  We  declined  this,  and  the  man 
said,  "Well,  I'll  send  a  negro  boy  with  you;  but 
you'll  have  to  come  back,"  which  proved  to  be  the 
case.  On  our  return  we  were  boisterously  welcomed. 
A  blazing  fire  of  dry  pine  soon  lit  up  the  room,  with 
its  clean,  bare  floor,  and  disclosed  the  figure  of  our 
host — Peter  Johnson  by  name — a  stout,  burly  man, 
clad  in  homespun  and  a  fur  cap.  He  said  his  wife 
and  children  had  been  "a-bed"  since  dark,  were  tired 
of  his  jokes,  and  that  he  was  delighted  to  have  a 
fresh  audience;  that  it  was  past  supper-time  and 
some  hours  before  breakfast,  but  that  fasting  was 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     221 

nothing  new  to  Confederate  soldiers.  The  names  of 
two  of  our  party,  McCorkle  and  McClintic,  he  said, 
were  too  long  and  that  he  would  call  them  Cockle  and 
Flint,  but  before  proceeding  further  he  would  give 
us  some  music.  Forthwith  he  produced  a  short  flute, 
took  a  seat  on  the  foot  of  the  stairs  (in  the  far  cor 
ner  of  the  room),  and  played  "The  Devil's  Dream," 
"The  Arkansas  Traveler,"  etc.,  beating  time  with 
his  foot. 

Here  we  passed  the  night  in  comfortable  beds  and, 
after  a  bountiful  breakfast,  left  with  a  pressing  in 
vitation  to  return  for  a  rabbit-chase  with  his  hounds, 
which  we  gladly  accepted  and  afterward  enjoyed. 
This  was  typical  of  eastern  Virginia  and  her  hos 
pitable,  whole-souled  "Tuckahoes,"  whose  houses 
were  never  too  full  for  them  to  hail  a  passer-by  and 
compel  him  to  come  in.  This  interruption  detracted 
nothing  from  the  pleasure  of  the  visit  for  which  we 
had  originally  set  out. 

A  short  time  after  our  return  to  Frederick's  Hall 
our  whole  artillery  command  narrowly  escaped  cap 
ture  by  a  band  of  cavalry  raiders  under  command  of 
Colonel  Dahlgren.  About  fifty  of  the  cannoneers 
of  the  battalion  had  been  furnished  with  muskets 
and  regularly  exercised  in  the  infantry  drill.  When 
the  raiders  arrived  within  a  mile  of  our  winter-quar 
ters  they  inquired  of  the  country  people  as  to  the 
character  of  troops  occupying  our  camp,  and  were 
informed  by  some  negroes  that  the  "men  had  musk 
ets  with  bavonets  on  them."  As  infantry  was  not 


222     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

what  they  were  seeking,  they  gave  us  the  go-by  and 
passed  on  toward  Richmond,  the  capture  of  which 
was  the  chief  object  of  the  expedition.  In  the  attack 
on  Richmond,  which  occurred  in  the  night,  Dahlgren 
was  killed  and  his  command  defeated  with  heavy 
loss. 

Encouraged  by  the  visit  already  mentioned,  I  ac 
companied  my  friend,  Tom  Williamson,  on  a  visit  by 
rail  to  his  relations,  the  Garnetts,  near  Hanover 
Junction;  thence,  after  spending  the  night,  to  some 
friends  in  Caroline  County.  On  our  return  to  camp 
we  found  preparations  on  foot  for  a  move  to  the 
front,  and  although  we  left  camp  by  eleven  o'clock 
that  night  not  more  than  three  or  four  miles  was 
traveled  by  daylight.  In  the  darkness  one  of  our 
twenty-pounders  went  over  a  thirty- foot  embank 
ment,  carrying  the  drivers  and  eight  horses  into  the 
mud  and  water  at  its  base. 

While  on  the  march  later  in  the  day,  to  save  dis 
tance,  I  undertook  to  pass  near  a  house,  in  the  yard 
of  which  were  two  men  with  a  large  Newfoundland 
dog.  A  smaller  dog,  chained  to  the  corner  of  the 
house,  broke  loose  as  I  passed  and  viciously  seized 
the  tail  of  my  overcoat.  Instantly,  to  my  dismay, 
the  large  dog  left  the  men  and  dashed  straight  for 
me;  but,  instead  of  rending  me,  knocked  my  assail 
ant  heels  over  head  and  held  him  down  until  secured 
by  the  men  and  chained. 

Before  reaching  the  front,  it  was  learned  that  we 
had  been  called  out  on  a  false  alarm.  Our  return  to 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     223 

Frederick's  Hall  was  by  a  more  circuitous  route, 
near  which  was  an  establishment  where  apple-brandy 
was  for  sale.  The  stock  had  been  heavily  watered 
and  the  price  of  shares  (in  a  drink),  even  then,  too 
far  above  par  for  eleven  dollars  a  month  to  afford 
scarcely  more  than  a  smell.  However,  after  reach 
ing  camp,  more  than  ordinary  wrestling  and  testing 
of  strength  were  indulged  in. 

Two  years  had  elapsed  since  any  furloughs  had 
been  given,  except  to  the  sick  and  wounded.  The 
granting  of  them  was  now  revived,  and  those  who 
had  been  longest  from  home  were,  of  course,  to  be 
served  first.  My  turn  came  in  March.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  impression  made  on  me  as  I  sat  at  the 
supper-table  at  home,  on  the  evening  of  my  arrival. 
My  father,  mother,  sisters,  and  little  niece,  Bessie 
Nelson,  were  present.  The  last  named,  who  had 
formerly  treated  me  as  scarcely  an  equal,  now  eyed 
me  with  even  some  degree  of  reverence. 

After  the  noise,  loud  talking,  etc.,  in  camp, 
the  quiet  was  painful.  It  was  just  as  it  had  always 
been,  except  the  vacant  places  of  the  boys  at  the 
front;  still,  I  felt  that  something  was  wrong.  Equally 
as  impressive  was  the  mild  diet  of  cold  bread,  milk, 
and  weak-looking  tea.  The  effect  was  the  same  as 
that  produced  by  a  sudden  transition  from  a  low  to 
a  high  altitude,  or  vice  versa,  requiring  time  for 
adaptation,  as  I  soon  experienced.  My  fifteen  days' 
leave  of  absence  having  expired,  I  returned  to  camp. 

To  induce  the  boys  who  were  under  age,  and  still 


224     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

at  home,  to  enlist,  a  thirty-day  furlough  was  offered 
to  every  soldier  who  would  secure  a  recruit  for  the 
service.  By  this  means  many  boys  of  only  fifteen 
or  sixteen  years  joined  the  army,  to  enable  a  long- 
absent  kinsman  to  get  home.  McClintic,  of  my  mess, 
got  this  furlough  by  the  enlistment  of  his  brother, 
and  while  at  home  drummed  up  the  son  of  a  neigh 
bor,  William  Barger,  whom  he  brought  back  with 
him  to  repeat  the  operation.  To  allowing  this  sec 
ond  furlough  the  authorities,  right  or  wrong,  ob 
jected.  The  matter  was  compromised  by  McClintic 
very  generously  assigning  the  young  recruit  to  my 
credit,  by  which  I  got  the  furlough. 

Before  my  return  to  the  army,  at  the  expiration 
of  the  thirty  days,  the  Grant  campaign  had  opened 
and  the  great  battles  of  the  Wilderness  and  Spottsyl- 
vania  had  been  fought.  Our  battery  had  escaped 
without  serious  loss,  as  the  character  of  the  country 
afforded  little  opportunity  for  the  use  of  artillery. 
From  Staunton  I  traveled  on  a  freight  train  with  the 
cadets  of  the  Virginia  Military  Institute  and  their 
professors,  who  were  now  the  conspicuous  heroes 
of  the  hour,  having  just  won  immortal  fame  in  their 
charge,  on  May  15,  at  New  Market.  Among  the 
professors  was  my  friend  and  former  messmate, 
Frank  Preston,  with  an  empty  sleeve,  now  captain 
of  a  cadet  company,  and  Henry  A.  Wise,  Jr.,  who 
took  command  of  the  cadets  after  the  wounding  of 
Colonel  Shipp,  their  commandant. 

Our  army  was  now  near  Hanover  Junction,  twen- 


\YlLLIA.M    McCLIXTFC 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     225 

ty-five  miles  from  Richmond,  and  engaged  in  its 
death  struggle  with  Grant's  countless  legions.  If 
any  one  period  of  the  four  years  of  the  war  were  to 
be  selected  as  an  example  of  Southern  endurance 
and  valor,  it  probably  should  be  the  campaign  from 
the  Wilderness,  beginning  May  5  and  closing  a 
month  later  at  Petersburg,  in  which  the  Confederate 
army,  numbering  64,000  half-clothed,  half-fed  men, 
successfully  resisted  a  splendidly  equipped  army  of 
140,000— inflicting  a  loss  of  60,000  killed  and 
wounded. 

Any  account  or  record  of  a  war  which  failed  to 
at  least  make  mention  of  the  events  in  that  war 
which  towered  above  all  others,  and  which  immortal 
ized  the  immediate  actors  and  shed  luster  on  the 
whole  army,  would  be  incomplete.  I  therefore  take 
pride  in  paying  tribute  to  those  men  who  on  three 
separate  occasions  in  the  campaign,  then  in  progress, 
displayed  a  species  of  valor  and  sublime  conduct,  the 
parallel  of  which  is  recorded  nowhere  else  in  history. 

The  events  referred  to  were:  First,  on  the  morn 
ing  of  May  6,  when  our  lines  had  been  broken  by 
the  tremendous  assaults  of  the  enemy  and  to  restore 
them,  General  Lee  undertook  in  person  to  lead  Gen 
eral  Gregg's  brigade  of  Texans  in  the  charge.  When 
the  order  to  advance  was  given,  these  men,  who  had 
never  before  even  paused  to  obey,  now  stood  motion 
less  as  if  some  strange  spell  had  come  over  them, 
too  modest,  at  first,  to  explain  the  cause  of  their 
refusal,  till  one  of  their  number  made  bold  to  call 


226    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

out,  "General  Lee  to  the  rear,"  which  was  at  once 
repeated  from  a  hundred  throats.  Then  yielding  to 
the  appeals  of  men  and  officers  not  to  expose  his  life, 
the  Texas  brigade  moved  forward  as  one  man. 

Again  on  May  10th  a  similar  emergency  calling 
General  Lee  to  the  breach,  two  regiments,  one  of 
Georgians  and  one  of  Virginians,  the  Forty-ninth 
Virginia,  refused,  as  did  the  Texans,  to  heed  the 
command  "Forward,"  until  General  Lee  had  con 
sented  to  withdraw,  then  the  line  advanced. 

Two  such  events  are  sufficient  to  establish  the  claim 
made,  but  as  evidence  that  they  were  not  the  prompt 
ings  of  some  sudden  and  passing  impulse,  two  days 
thereafter,  on  May  12th,  a  band  of  Mississippians 
repeated  the  scene.  Since  every  nation  holds  some 
particular  display  of  fortitude  and  valor  on  the  part 
of  its  soldiers,  as  its  peculiar  heritage,  so  we  of  the 
South  should  offer  these  exhibitions  of  dauntless  and 
sublime  heroism. 

The  English  have  the  charge  at  Balaklava,  the 
French  the  heroism  of  "The  Old  Guard,"  the  Spar 
tans  their  Thermopylae,  the  Romans  their  Marcus 
Curtius.  It  required  the  pen  of  a  Homer  to  paint 
the  feats  of  valor  of  a  Hector  or  an  Achilles  as  they 
advanced  to  join  in  single  combat  amid  the  plaudits 
of  admiring  gods  and  men ;  the  inspired  language  of 
Holy  Writ  to  thrill  us  with  the  valor  of  a  David  in 
his  contest  with  the  Giant.  But  we  are  told  also 
what  there  was  to  impel  him,  that  when  in  obedience 
to  the  Divine  call,  he  joined  his  people,  who  day  after 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON     227 

day  had  been  cowering  under  the  derisive  taunts  of 
their  adversaries ;  that  there  was  a  promise  from 
King  Saul  that  whoever  would  vanquish  this  lusty 
giant  would  be  rewarded  with  the  hand  of  the  king's 
daughter,  and  then  to  awaken  all  the  courage  he 
could  muster  he  \vas  asked  in  contempt  by  his  elder 
brother,  "With  whom  hast  them  left  those  feu1  sheep 
in  the  wilderness?"  So  when  he  advanced  with  his 
five  smooth  pebbles  "from  out  the  brook"  there  was 
nothing  lacking  to  nerve  his  whole  being. 

Returning  to  our  examples  of  valor,  the  surround 
ings  of  these  Southerners  must  also  be  taken  into 
account.  As  already  stated,  in  every  other  instance 
in  which  men  have  displayed  exalted  heroism  and 
won  immortal  fame,  it  requires  but  little  considera 
tion  to  see  that  none  possessed  the  element  that  ani 
mated  these  men  of  the  South.  In  some  instances  the 
others  were  led  by  some  renowned  chieftain,  whom 
they  felt  it  a  credit  to  follow,  as  the  grenadiers  fol 
lowed  Napoleon  at  the  Bridge  of  Lodi. 

Others  had  their  courage  inspired  and  pride  in 
voked  by  a  contest  with  a  single  adversary,  but  in  the 
case  of  the  Southern  men  all  of  these  elements  were 
wanting.  Then,  too,  the  Northern  men,  whom  they 
were  now  confronting,  were  the  seasoned  veterans  of 
all  the  armies  that  had  been  brought  against  them  in 
campaign  after  campaign  and  had  proven  themselves 
formidable  antagonists,  and  equipped,  too,  with 
every  advantage  known  to  military  science,  while 
their  own  equipment  was  almost  the  reverse. 


228     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

In  each  of  the  three  cases  under  consideration,  the 
Confederate  lines  had  been  broken  and  overrun  by 
overwhelming  numbers  and  were  now  held  by  the 
victors  exulting  in  their  success.  Then  the  physical 
condition  of  the  Southern  men  must  not  be  over 
looked.  For  some  days  there  had  scarcely  been  a 
lull  in  the  fighting.  The  small  portions  of  the  pre 
ceding  nights  devoted  to  rest  had  been  passed  with 
their  arms  and  accoutrements  about  them,  and  when 
roused  from  sleep  scant  time  was  given  to  swallow 
their  rations.  Then  amid  the  surroundings  of  a 
gloomy  forest  they  moved  forward  among  the 
wounded  and  over  the  dead  bodies  of  their  comrades. 
So  if  ever  environment  was  such  as  to  allay  enthu 
siasm,  surely  it  was  found  here. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  written  by 
Colonel  Poague  to  his  father,  when  these  scenes  had 
just  transpired,  will  be  of  interest: 

"Line  of  battle  on  Hanover  C.  H.  Road, 

"10  miles  from  Richmond, 

"June  1st,  1864. 


EXTRACT 

"I  will  take  this  occasion  to  relate  an  incident  or 
two  illustrating  the  feeling  our  soldiers  have  for 
General  Lee.  On  the  morning  of  the  6th  of  May, 
when  the  enemy  had  gained  some  advantage  over 
our  troops  on  the  plank  road  in  the  wilderness  and 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     229 

were  pressing  our  men  back,  Long-street's  troops 
came  up  and  were  hastily  formed  in  line  of  battle, 
and  as  the  famous  Texas  Brigade  started  forward, 
passing  right  through  my  guns,  General  Lee  rode 
along  with  it  with  head  uncovered.  This  spectacle 
wrought  our  troops  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  en 
thusiasm.  But  they  did  not  forget  that  their  beloved 
General  was  thus  greatly  exposing  himself,  and  the 
whole  line  called  out,  'Go  back !  Go  back,  General 
Lee ! ;'  and  finally  they  told  him  they  would  not  fire 
a  gun  unless  he  went  back.  Entreated  thus  by  his 
troops  and  implored  by  members  of  his  staff,  he  was 
prevailed  on  to  withdraw  to  a  place  less  exposed. 
Ho\v  the  old  General's  heart  must  have  swelled  at 
this  display  of  filial  regard  and  tender  solicitude 
by  his  veterans  under  such  circumstances !  Again 
at  Spottsylvania  General  Lee  was  at  the  position 
occupied  by  my  battalion,  when  the  Yankee  batteries 
opened  most  furiously  on  the  place,  as  if  conscious 
of  the  whereabouts  of  their  great  antagonist.  A 
great  big  impulsive  fellow,  private  Shirley  of  Utter- 
bach's  battery,  becoming  uneasy  for  the  safety  of 
the  General,  politely  but  earnestly  invited  him  to 
take  a  seat  in  the  gunpit.  The  General  in  his  polite 
and  pleasant  way  declined.  Presently  a  shell  struck 
very  near,  covering  the  General  with  dirt.  Shirley 
could  stand  it  no  longer,  but  springing  forward 
seized  him  by  the  hand  and  besought  him  to  take  a 
seat  in  the  pit  and  did  almost  drag  General  Lee  to  a 
place  where  he  was  less  exposed.  These  little  inci- 


230    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

dents  will  serve  to  show  how  General  Lee's  boys 
value  him  and  love  him.  I  would  not  have  missed 
that  scene  on  the  plank  road  for  a  good  deal.  But 

here  is  an  order  to  move 

"Your  affectionate  son, 

"W.    T.    POAGUE." 

The  distinctive  features  demonstrated  on  those 
occasions  were :  First,  General  Lee's  attitude  as  he 
put  himself  at  the  head  of  his  men.  Then  the  spirit 
which  animated  these  men  in  refusing  to  allow  him 
to  expose  his  life,  and,  above  all,  that  it  required  not 
even  the  example  of  a  Lee  to  encourage  them  to  lay 
down  their  lives  in  the  performance  of  duty. 

The  South  to  do  honor  to  itself,  and  to  the  mem 
ory  of  these  men,  should  erect  a  monument  which 
in  majesty  of  proportion  and  design  should  have 
but  one  competitor,  and  that  one  to  the  mothers 
and  wives  in  the  South,  whose  self-sacrifice,  patience 
and  devotion  rendered  such  deeds  of  valor  only 
natural. 

Much  has  been  said  and  written  concerning  the 
comparative  equipment,  etc.,  of  the  two  armies.  A 
striking  reference  to  it  I  heard  in  a  conversation  at 
General  Lee's  home  in  Lexington  after  the  war.  Of 
the  students  who  attended  Washington  College  dur 
ing  his  presidency  he  always  requested  a  visit  to 
himself  whenever  they  returned  to  the  town.  With 
this  request  they  were  very  ready  to  comply.  While 
performing  this  pleasant  duty  one  evening,  during 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     231 

a  visit  to  my  old  home  in  Lexington,  Mrs.  Lee,  sit 
ting  in  her  invalid-chair,  was  discoursing  to  me, 
feelingly,  on  the  striking  contrast  between  the  rag 
ged  clothing  worn  by  Confederate  soldiers  as  com 
pared  with  that  worn  by  the  Federals,  as  she  had 
seen  the  Federal  troops  entering  Richmond  after  its 
evacuation.  The  General,  who  was  pacing  the  floor, 
paused  for  a  moment,  his  eye  lighting  up,  and,  at 
the  conclusion  of  her  remarks,  said,  as  he  inclined 
forward  with  that  superb  grace,  "But,  ah !  Mistress 
Lee,  we  gave  them  some  awfully  hard  knocks,  with 
all  of  our  rags!" 

After  parting  with  my  cadet  friends  at  Hanover 
Junction,  soon  after  day-dawn,  I  readily  found  our 
battery  bivouacking  in  sight  of  the  station.  Some  of 
the  men  were  lying  asleep;  those  who  had  risen 
seemed  not  yet  fully  awake.  All  looked  ten  years 
older  than  when  I  had  bidden  them  good-by  a  month 
before — hollow-eyed,  unwashed,  jaded,  and  hun 
gry  ;  paper-collars  and  blue  neckties  shed  and  for 
gotten.  The  contents  of  my  basket  (boxes  were 
now  obsolete),  consisting  of  pies,  sweetened  with 
sorghum  molasses,  and  other  such  edibles,  were 
soon  devoured,  and  I  reported  "returned  for  duty." 
In  a  few  hours  we  were  on  the  road  to  Richmond, 
with  the  prospect  of  another  sojourn  in  the  sur 
rounding  swamps. 

On  the  night  of  June  1  our  battery  was  biv 
ouacked  in  the  edge  of  a  dense  piece  of  woods,  the 
guns  being  parked  in  open  ground  just  outside, 


232     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

while  the  men  were  lying  in  the  leaves,  with  the 
horses  tied  among  them.  About  midnight  one  of 
the  horses  became  tangled  in  his  halter  and  fell  to 
the  ground,  struggling  and  kicking  frantically  to 
free  himself.  A  man  close  by,  being  startled  from 
sleep,  began  halloaing,  "Whoa,  whoa,  whoa!"  The 
alarm  was  taken  up  by  one  after  another  as  each 
roused  from  slumber,  increasing  and  spreading  the 
noise  and  confusion;  by  this  time  the  horses  had 
joined  in,  pawing  and  snorting  in  terror,  complet 
ing  the  reign  of  pandemonium.  As  darkness  pre 
vented  successful  running,  some  of  the  men  climbed 
trees  or  clung  to  them  for  protection,  while  the  sen 
tinel  over  the  guns  in  the  open  broke  from  his  beat, 
supposing  Grant's  cavalry  was  upon  us.  In  a  space 
of  two  minutes  all  suddenly  became  still,  the  climbers 
stealthily  slid  from  their  trees,  and  others  gingerly 
picked  their  way  back  to  their  lairs,  "ashamed  as 
men  who  flee  in  battle."  For  some  time,  as  the 
cause  and  absurdity  of  the  incident  was  realized, 
there  issued  now  and  then  from  a  pile  of  leaves  a 
chuckle  of  suppressed  laughter. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

SECOND    COLD    HARBOR WOUNDED RETURN     HOME 

— REFUGEEING  FROM   HUNTER 

AFTER  spending  the  following  day  and  night  in 
"Camp  Panic,"  we  moved  forward  early  on  the 
morning  of  June  3  to  the  field  of  the  memorable 
second  Cold  Harbor.  Minie-balls  were  rapping 
against  the  trees  as  we  drove  through  a  copse  of 
small  timber  to  occupy  a  temporary  redoubt  in  the 
line  of  breastworks  beyond.  \Yhile  the  guns  halted 
briefly  before  driving  in  to  unlimber,  I  walked  for 
ward  to  see  what  was  in  front.  The  moment  I  came 
into  view  a  Minie-ball  sung  by  my  head  and  passed 
through  the  clothes  of  the  cannoneer,  Barton  Mc- 
Crum,  who  was  a  few  steps  from  me,  suggesting  to 
both  of  us  to  lie  low  until  called  for  as  videttes. 
Perched  in  the  tops  of  the  trees  beyond  the  half- 
mile  of  open  field  in  our  front,  the  enemy's  sharp 
shooters,  with  telescope  sights  on  their  rifles,  blazed 
away  at  every  moving  object  along  our  line.  It  was 
noon  before  their  artillery  opened  on  us,  and,  in  the 
firing  which  ensued,  a  large  barn  a  hundred  yards 
in  our  front  was  set  on  fire  by  a  shell  and  burned  to 
the  ground. 

An  hour  or  two  later,  during  this  brisk  can 
nonade,  I,  being  No.  3,  stood  with  my  thumb  on  the 
vent  as  the  gun  was  being  loaded.  From  a  shell 

233 


234    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

which  exploded  a  few  yards  in  front  I  was  struck 
on  the  breast  by  the  butt-end,  weighing  not  less  than 
three  pounds,  and  at  the  same  time  by  a  smaller 
piece  on  the  thigh.  After  writhing  for  a  time  I  was 
accompanied  to  our  surgeon  in  the  rear.  The  brass 
button  on  my  jacket,  which  I  still  have  as  a  me 
mento,  was  cut  almost  in  two  and  the  shirt  button 
underneath  driven  to  the  breast-bone,  besides  other 
smaller  gashes.  A  large  contusion  was  made  by  the 
blow  on  my  thigh,  and  my  clothing  was  very  much 
torn.  After  my  wounds  had  been  dressed  I  passed 
the  night  at  the  quarters  of  my  friend  and  fellow- 
townsman,  Capt.  Charles  Estill,  of  the  Ordnance 
Department,  who  already  had  in  charge  his  brother 
Jack,  wounded  in  a  cavalry  engagement  the  day  be 
fore. 

An  hour  after  dark,  as  I  sat  by  the  light  of  a 
camp-fire,  enjoying  the  relief  and  rest,  as  well  as 
the  agreeable  company  of  old  friends,  the  rattle  of 
musketry  two  miles  away  had  gradually  increased 
into  the  proportions  of  a  fierce  battle.  The  feelings 
of  one  honorably  out  of  such  a  conflict,  but  listen 
ing  in  perfect  security,  may  be  better  imagined  than 
described.  This,  like  a  curfew  bell,  signaled  the 
close  of  a  day  of  frightful  and  probably  unparal 
leled  carnage.  Within  the  space  of  a  single  hour 
in  the  forenoon  the  Federal  army  had  been  three 
times  repulsed  with  a  loss  of  thirteen  thousand  men 
killed  and  wounded ;  after  which  their  troops  firmly 
refused  to  submit  themselves  to  further  butchery. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     235 

This  statement  is  made  on  the  evidence  of  Northern 
historians. 

After  a  night's  rest  I  was  sent  to  Richmond, 
where  I  received  a  transfer  to  a  hospital  in  Staun- 
ton.  Sheridan's  cavalry  having  interrupted  travel 
over  the  Virginia  Central  Railroad,  I  went  by  rail 
to  Lynchburg,  via  the  Southside  Road,  with  Cap 
tain  Semmes  and  eight  or  ten  cadets  on  their  return 
to  Lexington  with  artillery  horses  pressed  into  ser 
vice.  Learning,  in  Lynchburg,  that  Hunter's  army 
was  near  Staunton,  I  continued  with  the  cadets,  rid 
ing  one  of  their  artillery  horses,  but  was  too  much 
exhausted  to  proceed  far,  and  stopped  for  the  night 
on  the  way.  Here  I  learned  from  refugees  that 
Hunter  was  advancing  toward  Lexington.  As  the 
whole  country  seemed  now  to  be  overrun  by  the 
Federals,  to  avoid  them  was  very  difficult. 

I  resumed  my  journey  toward  home,  frequently 
meeting  acquaintances  who  were  seeking  safety 
elsewhere.  When  within  four  or  five  miles  of  the 
town,  while  ascending  a  long  hill,  I  heard  the  sound 
of  a  drum  and  fife  not  far  ahead.  Presently  I 
recognized  the  tune  played  to  be  " Yankee  Doodle." 
I  could  not  believe  it  to  be  the  vanguard  of  Hunter's 
army,  but  what  on  earth  could  it  be?  However,  at 
the  top  of  the  hill  I  saw  a  train  of  refugee  wagons 
preceded  by  two  negroes  who  were  making  the 
music. 

I  remained  at  home  only  a  day  and  a  night,  at 
the  expiration  of  which  time  General  McCausland 


236     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

(the  first  captain  of  our  battery)  with  his  brigade 
of  cavalry  was  within  a  mile  of  town,  closely  pur 
sued  by  Hunter's  whole  army.  I  spent  half  of  the 
night  assisting  my  mother  and  the  servants  (our 
slaves)  to  conceal  from  the  marauders  what  flour, 
bacon,  etc.,  the  family  still  had;  and  before  sunrise 
the  next  morning  set  out,  mounted  on  my  father's 
horse,  for  a  safer  place.  By  this  time  my  wounds 
had  become  very  painful,  and  my  leg  had  turned  a 
dark-blue  color  from  the  thigh  to  the  knee. 

A  brief  account  of  my  experience  while  refugee- 
ing  may  be  of  interest,  as  it  will  give  an  idea  of  the 
horror  with  which  our  non-combatants  regarded  the 
invasion  of  their  homes  by  our  fellow-countrymen 
of  the  North,  who  had  now  resorted  to  fire,  after 
learning  by  bitter  experience  that  the  sword  alone 
could  not  restore  us  to  the  blessings  of  the  Union. 

My  destination  was  the  home  of  my  aunt,  Mrs. 
Allen,  forty  miles  distant,  in  Bedford  County.  After 
passing  through  the  gap  between  the  two  peaks  of 
Otter,  I  reached  my  aunt's  and  found  there  three 
officers  from  Louisiana  recovering  from  wounds. 
After  a  respite  of  two  days  one  of  the  officers,  on 
his  return  from  a  neighbor's,  brought  information 
that  McCausland's  command  was  approaching 
through  the  mountain-pass,  with  Hunter  in  close 
pursuit.  In  a  few  hours  our  house  of  refuge  was 
overrun  by  McCausland's  hungry  soldiers.  Again 
I  went  through  the  process  of  helping  to  hide  valu 
ables  and  packing  up  what  was  to  be  hauled  away. 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON     237 

I  started  at  dawn  next  morning  with  the  officers, 
leaving  my  aunt  and  her  three  daughters  very  for 
lorn  and  unprotected.  When  I  left  she  gave  me  the 
pistol  which  her  son  Robert,  colonel  of  the  Twenty- 
eighth  Virginia  Regiment,  was  wearing  when  he 
fell  in  Pickett's  charge  at  Gettysburg.  In  our  care 
were  the  loaded  wagons,  negro  men,  lowing  cows, 
and  bleating  sheep. 

That  afternoon,  after  exchanging  my  gray  for 
a  fleet-footed  cavalry  horse  ridden  by  one  of  the 
officers,  I  rode  back  from  our  place  of  hiding,  some 
miles  south  of  Liberty,  to  reconnoiter;  but,  after 
passing  through  the  town,  met  General  McCausland 
at  the  head  of  his  brigade  falling  back  toward 
Lynchburg,  and  rode  back  a  short  distance  with 
him  to  return  to  my  party  of  refugees,  who  mean 
time  had  moved  farther  on.  Next  day  I  stopped 
at  a  house  by  the  wayside  to  get  dinner,  and  had 
just  taken  my  seat  at  the  table  when  there  arose  a 
great  commotion  outside,  with  cries  of  "Yankee 
cavalry!  Yankee  cavalry!"  Stepping  to  the  door, 
I  saw  a  stream  of  terrified  school-children  crying 
as  they  ran  by,  and  refugees  flying  for  the  woods. 
In  a  moment  I  was  on  my  fleet-footed  dun,  not  tak 
ing  time  to  pick  up  a  biscuit  of  my  untasted  dinner 
nor  the  pillow  worn  between  my  crippled  leg  and  the 
saddle,  and  joined  in  the  flight.  I  had  noticed  a 
yearling  colt  in  the  yard  of  the  house  as  I  entered, 
and  in  five  minutes  after  I  started  a  twelve-year-old 
boy  mounted  on  the  little  thing,  barebacked,  shot 


238     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

by  me  with  the  speed  of  a  greyhound.  A  hundred 
yards  farther  on  I  overtook  some  refugee  wagons 
from  about  Lexington,  whose  owners  had  left  them 
on  the  road  and  betaken  themselves  to  the  woods; 
but  there  still  stood  by  them  a  mulatto  man  of  our 
town — Lindsay  Reid  by  name — who  indignantly 
refused  to  be  routed,  and  was  doing  his  utmost, 
with  voice  and  example,  to  stem  the  tide,  saying, 
"It  is  a  shame  to  fear  anything;  let's  stand  and  give 
them  a  fight !" 

A  moment  later  a  negro  boy  rode  by  at  a  gallop 
in  the  direction  from  which  the  alarm  came.  In 
reply  to  the  inquiry  as  to  where  he  was  going,  he 
called  out,  "After  Marse  William."  Relying  on 
him  as  a  picket,  I  remained  in  view  of  the  road.  In 
ten  minutes  he  appeared,  returning  at  full  speed, 
and  called  out  to  me,  as  he  rode  up,  that  he  had 
"run  almost  into  them."  They  were  close  behind, 
and  I  must  "fly  or  be  caught."  I  was  well  along 
side  of  him  as  he  finished  the  warning,  and  for  half 
a  mile  our  horses  ran  neck  and  neck.  He  said  he 
would  take  me  to  his  old  master's,  an  out-of-the-way 
place,  several  miles  distant.  Arriving  there,  a  nice 
country  house  and  very  secluded,  I  concealed  my 
horse  in  the  woods  as  best  I  could  and  went  to  the 
house,  where  I  was  welcomed  and  cared  for  by  two 
young  ladies  and  their  aged  father,  Mr.  Hurt,  who 
was  blind.  I  was  now  much  exhausted,  and  determ 
ined  to  take  a  rest,  with  the  chances  of  being  cap 
tured.  The  occasion  of  the  alarm  was  a  body  of 


- 


ROBERT  FKAZER 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     239 

Federal  cavalry  which  had  been  sent  on  a  raid  to 
meet  Hunter's  army,  advancing  on  Lynchburg. 

After  two  days  in  this  quiet  abode  I  set  out  to 
make  my  way  past  the  rear  of  Hunter's  army  and 
eventually  to  reach  home.  On  the  way  to  Liberty 
I  was  informed  that  a  train  of  Hunter's  wagons 
and  many  negroes,  under  a  cavalry  escort,  were  then 
passing  northward  through  the  town.  To  satisfy 
myself  (being  again  mounted  on  my  father's  gray) 
I  rode  to  the  top  of  the  hill  overlooking  the  place. 
Then  a  strikingly  pretty  young  lady  of  about  six 
teen,  bareheaded  (although  it  was  not  then  the 
fashion),  and  almost  out  of  breath,  who  had  seen 
me  coming  into  danger,  ran  to  meet  me  and  called, 
"For  God's  sake,  fly;  the  town  is  full  of  Yankees!" 
Many  years  after  the  war  a  lady  friend  of  Norfolk, 
Virginia,  who  was  refugeeing  in  Liberty  at  the 
time,  told  me  that  she  had  witnessed  the  incident, 
and  said  that  the  girl  who  had  run  out  to  warn  me 
had  afterward  married  a  Federal  officer.  I  then 
went  around  the  town  and  crossed  the  road  a  mile 
west  of  it,  learning  that  the  wagon-train,  etc.,  had 
all  passed. 

From  this  place  on,  throughout  the  territory 
over  which  this  patriotic  army  had  operated,  were 
the  desolated  homes  of  helpless  people,  stripped  of 
every  valuable  they  possessed,  and  outraged  at  the 
wanton  destruction  of  their  property,  scarcely 
knowing  how  to  repair  the  damage  or  to  take  up 
again  their  broken  fortunes.  Night  had  now  fallen. 


240     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

but  a  bright  moon  rather  added  to  the  risks  of  con 
tinuing  my  journey.  An  old  negro  man,  however, 
kindly  agreed  to  pilot  me  through  fields  and  woods, 
avoiding  the  highways,  "as  far  as  Colonel  Nichols'  ' 
(his  master's).  When  near  his  destination  he  went 
ahead  to  reconnoiter,  and  soon  returned  from  the 
house,  accompanied  by  one  of  the  ladies,  who  told 
me  that  their  house  and  premises  had  been  overrun 
by  Yankees  all  day,  and  that  some  of  them  were 
still  prowling  about,  and,  in  her  fright,  pointed  to 
each  bush  as  an  armed  foe. 

Camp-fires  still  burning  enabled  me  to  steer  clear 
of  the  road,  but  it  was  midnight  when  I  reached  my 
aunt's,  and,  going  to  the  negro  cabin  farthest  from 
her  dwelling,  I  succeeded,  after  a  long  time,  in  get 
ting  "Uncle"  Mose  to  venture  out  of  his  door.  He 
said  he  thought  the  Yankees  were  all  gone,  but  to 
wait  till  he  crept  up  to  the  house  and  let  "Ole  Miss" 
know  I  was  about.  He  reported  the  way  clear,  and 
I  was  soon  in  the  side  porch.  After  the  inmates 
were  satisfied  as  to  my  identity,  the  door  was  opened 
just  enough  for  me  to  squeeze  through.  The  family, 
consisting  of  females,  including  the  overseer's  wife, 
who  had  come  for  protection,  quietly  collected  in 
the  sitting-room,  where  a  tallow  candle,  placed  not 
to  attract  attention  from  outside,  shed  a  dim  light 
over  my  ghost-like  companions  clad  in  their  night 
dresses.  The  younger  ladies  were  almost  hysterical, 
and  all  looked  as  if  they  had  passed  through  a  fear 
ful  storm  at  sea,  as  various  experiences  were  re- 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     241 

counted.  The  house  had  been  ransacked  from  gar 
ret  to  cellar,  and  what  could  not  be  devoured  or  car 
ried  off  was  scattered  about,  and  such  things  as 
sugar,  vinegar,  flour,  salt,  etc.,  conglomerately 
mixed.  The  only  food  that  escaped  was  what  the 
negroes  had  in  their  cabins,  and  this  they  freely 
divided  writh  the  whites. 

The  next  day  I  concealed  myself  and  horse  in 
the  woods,  and  was  lying  half -asleep  when  I  heard 
footsteps  stealthily  approaching  through  the  leaves. 
Presently  a  half -grown  negro,  carrying  a  small  bas 
ket,  stumbled  almost  on  me.  He  drew  back,  startled 
at  my  question,  "What  do  you  want?"  and  replied, 
"Nothin' ;  I  jus'  gwine  take  'Uncle'  Mose  he  din 
ner.  He  workin'  in  de  fiel'  over  yancler."  My  din 
ner  was  to  be  sent  by  a  boy  named  Phil,  so  I  said, 
"Is  that  you,  Phil?"  "Lorcly!  Is  that  you,  Marse 
Eddie?  I  though  you  was  a  Yankee!  Yas,  dis  is 
me,  and  here's  yer  dinner  I  done  brung  yer."  Phil, 
who  belonged  to  my  aunt,  had  run  off  several  weeks 
before,  but  of  his  own  accord  had  returned  the 
preceding  day,  and  this  was  our  first  meeting. 

As  Hunter's  army  was  still  threatening  Lynch- 
burg,  to  avoid  the  scouting-parties  scouring  the 
country  in  his  rear  I  set  out  on  Sunday  morning  to 
make  my  way  back  to  Lexington  by  Peteet's  Gap. 
I  was  scarcely  out  of  sight — in  fact  one  of  my 
cousins,  as  I  learned  afterward,  ran  to  the  porch  to 
assure  herself  that  I  was  gone — when  twenty-five 
or  thirty  Federal  cavalry,  accompanied  by  a  large, 


242     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

black  dog,  and  guided  by  one  of  my  aunt's  negroes 
armed  and  dressed  in  Federal  uniform,  galloped  into 
the  yard  and  searched  the  house  for  "rebel  soldiers." 
Passing  through  the  Federal  camp-ground,  from 
among  the  numerous  household  articles,  etc.,  I 
picked  up  a  book,  on  the  fly-leaf  of  which  was  writ 
ten,  "Captured  at  Washington  College,  Lexington, 
Rockingham  County,  Virginia."  That  afternoon, 
as  I  was  slowly  toiling  up  the  steep  mountain  path 
almost  overgrown  with  ferns,  I  was  stopped  by  an 
old,  white-bearded  mountaineer  at  a  small  gate 
which  he  held  open  for  me.  While  asking  for  the 
news,  after  I  had  dismounted,  he  noticed  the  split 
button  on  my  coat  and  my  torn  trousers,  and,  paus 
ing  for  a  moment,  he  said,  very  solemnly,  "Well, 
you  ought  to  be  a  mighty  good  young  man."  I 
asked  why  he  thought  so.  "Well,"  said  he,  "the 
hand  of  God  has  certainly  been  around  you." 

That  night  I  spent  at  Judge  Anderson's,  in  Ar 
nold's  Valley,  and  the  next  day  reached  Lexington 
—a  very  different  Lexington  from  the  one  I  had  left 
a  fortnight  before.  The  Virginia  Military  Insti 
tute  barracks,  the  professors'  houses,  and  Governor 
Letcher's  private  home  had  been  burned,  and  also 
all  neighboring  mills,  etc.,  while  the  intervening 
and  adjacent  grounds  were  one  great  desolate  com 
mon.  Preparations  had  also  been  made  to  burn 
Washington  College,  when  my  father,  who  was  a 
trustee  of  that  institution,  called  on  General  Hun 
ter,  and,  by  explaining  that  it  was  endowed  by  and 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     243 

named  in  honor  of  General  Washington,  finally  suc 
ceeded  in  preventing  its  entire  destruction,  although 
much  valuable  apparatus,  etc.,  had  already  been 
destroyed. 

Comparisons  are  odious,  but  the  contrast  between 
the  conduct  of  Northern  and  Southern  soldiers  dur 
ing  their  invasions  of  each  other's  territory  is  very 
striking  and  suggestive ;  especially  when  taken  in 
connection  with  the  fact  that  the  Federal  army,  from 
first  to  last,  numbered  twenty-eight  hundred  thou 
sand  men,  and  the  Confederates  not  more  than  six 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand. 

General  Early,  with  three  divisions,  having  been 
despatched  from  the  army  near  Richmond,  had 
reached  Lynchburg  in  time  to  prevent  its  occu 
pancy  by  Hunter,  who  promptly  retreated,  and  his 
army  soon  became  a  mass  of  fugitives,  struggling 
through  the  mountains  of  West  Virginia  on  to  the 
Ohio  River.  The  Confederates  at  Lynchburg,  all 
told,  numbered  11,000  men,  the  Federals  20,000. 

An  incident  which  occurred  in  Rockbridge 
County,  the  participants  in  which  were  of  the  "cra 
dle  and  grave"  classes,  deserves  mention.  Maj. 
Angus  McDonald,  aged  seventy,  having  four  sons 
in  our  army,  set  out  from  Lexington  with  his  four 
teen-year-old  son  Harry,  refugeeing.  They  were 
joined,  near  the  Natural  Bridge,  by  Mr.  Thomas 
Wilson,  a  white-haired  old  man ;  and  the  three  de 
termined  to  give  battle  to  Hunter's  army.  From  a 
hastilv  constructed  shelter  of  rails  and  stones  thev 


244    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

opened,  with  shotguns  and  pistols,  on  his  advance 
guard,  but,  of  course,  were  quickly  overpowered. 
Mr.  Wilson  was  left  for  dead  on  the  ground,  and 
the  McDonalds  captured.  The  father  was  taken  to 
a  Northern  prison,  but  Harry  made  his  escape  by 
night  in  the  mountains,  and  in  turn  captured  a  Fed 
eral  soldier,  whom  I  saw  him  turn  over  to  the  pro 
vost  on  his  return  to  Lexington.  General  Early  pur 
sued  Hunter  no  farther  than  Botetourt  County,  and 
thence  passed  through  Lexington  on  his  disastrous 
campaign  toward  Washington. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

PERSONAL  MENTION  OF  OFFICERS  AND  MEN ROCK- 
BRIDGE  ARTILLERY SECOND  ROCKBRIDGE  AR 
TILLERY 

As  HAS  already  been  mentioned,  the  captain  under 
whom  the  battery  was  mustered  into  service  was  the 
Rev.  Wm.  N.  Pendleton,  rector  of  the  Episcopal 
Church  in  Lexington,  Virginia,  who,  after  the  first 
battle  of  Manassas,  became  chief  of  artillery  of  the 
Army  of  Northern  Virginia.  His  only  son,  Alexan 
der  S.  Pendleton,  graduated  at  Washington  College 
at  the  age  of  18.  He  entered  the  army  from  the 
University  of  Virginia  at  the  beginning  of  the  war 
as  lieutenant  on  General  Jackson's  staff,  and  rose 
through  the  various  grades  of  promotion  to  the 
rank  of  lieutenant-colonel.  After  General  Jack 
son's  death  he  continued  to  fill  the  position  of  ad 
jutant  to  the  succeeding  commanders  of  the  corps 
until  he  fell  in  battle  near  Winchester,  in  1864.  He 
was  one  of  the  bravest  and  most  efficient  staff  offi 
cers  in  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia. 

The  captains  of  the  battery  under  whom  I  served 
were  three  uncommonly  brave  and  capable  officers. 

The  first,  William  McLaughlin,  after  making  an 
enviable  record  with  the  company,  distinguished 
himself  as  commander  of  a  battalion  of  artillery  in 
General  Early's  company  in  1864. 

245 


246    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

The  second,  Captain  W.  T.  Poague,  whose  repu 
tation  for  efficiency  and  courage  won  for  him  the 
command  of  a  battalion  of  artillery  in  A.  P.  Hill's 
corps,  was  amply  equipped,  with  both  intelligence 
and  valor  to  have  handled  an  army  division  with 
credit  to  himself  and  advantage  to  the  service. 

The  third,  Archibald  Graham,  who  was  appointed 
a  sergeant  upon  the  organization  of  the  company, 
then  elected  a  lieutenant,  and  for  the  last  two  years 
of  the  war  captain,  had  the  distinction  of  having 
been  in  every  engagement  in  which  the  battery  took 
part  from  Hainesville,  in  1861,  to  Appomattox  in 
1865.  His  dreamy,  brown  eyes  kindled  most  at  the 
sound  of  good  music,  and  where  the  noise  of  battle 
was  greatest,  and  shells  flew  thickest,  there  Graham 
lingered,  as  if  courting  danger. 

Our  First  Lieut.  W.  M.  Brown,  a  brave  officer, 
wounded  and  captured  at  Gettysburg,  remained  in 
prison  from  that  time  until  the  close  of  the  war. 

Lieut.  J.  B.  McCorkle,  a  noble  fellow  and  reck 
lessly  brave,  was  killed  at  first  Fredericksburg. 

As  stated  in  this  paper,  besides  those  regularly 
enrolled  in  the  company  were  men  who  did  more 
or  less  service  with  it,  but  whose  names  do  not  ap 
pear  on  the  roll.  For  example,  Bernard  Wolfe,  of 
Martinsburg,  served  in  this  capacity  for  a  time  pre 
vious  to  and  in  the  first  battle  of  Manassas,  and  later 
became  major  of  commissary  on  General  Pendle- 
ton's  staff. 

Chapman  Maupin,  of  Charlottesville,  son  of  Pro- 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     247 

fessor  Maupin,  of  the  University  of  Virginia,  served 
during  part  of  the  campaign  of  1862,  was  with  the 
battery  in  several  battles,  and  enlisted  afterward 
in  the  Signal  Corps. 

That  so  many  intelligent  and  educated  men  from 
outside  of  Rockbridge  were  attracted  to  this  com 
pany  was  primarily  due  to  the  fact  that  the  Rev. 
W.  N.  Pendleton,  its  captain  until  after  first  Ma- 
nassas,  was  a  graduate  of  West  Point  and  was 
widely  known  as  a  clergyman  and  educator.  After 
his  promotion  the  character  of  the  company  itself 
accomplished  the  same  effect. 

Of  the  names  on  the  roll  there  were  four  A.  M.'s 
and  a  score  of  students  of  the  University  of  Vir 
ginia.  There  were  at  least  twenty  graduates  of 
Washington  College,  and  as  many  undergraduates, 
and  many  graduates  and  students  of  other  colleges. 

Among  the  privates  in  the  company  was  a  son 
and  namesake  of  General  R.  E.  Lee,  whose  presence 
in  such  a  capacity  was  characteristic  of  his  noble 
father,  when  it  seemed  so  natural  and  surely  the 
custom  to  have  provided  him  with  a  commission. 
That  the  son  should  have  the  instincts  and  attributes 
of  a  soldier  was  not  surprising;  but,  with  these  in 
herited  gifts,  his  individuality,  in  which  uniform 
cheerfulness,  consideration  for  others,  and  enjoy 
ment  of  fun  were  prominent  features,  won  for  him 
the  esteem  and  affection  of  his  comrades.  When  it 
fell  to  his  lot,  as  a  cannoneer,  to  supply  temporarily 
the  place  of  a  sick  or  wounded  driver,  he  handled 


248     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

and  cared  for  his  horses  as  diligently  and  with  as 
much  pride  as  when  firing  a  gun. 

Two  sons  of  Ex-President  Tyler,  one  of  whom 
—Gardiner — afterwards  represented  his  district  in 
Congress. 

A  son  of  Commodore  Porter,  of  the  United 
States  Navy. 

Walter  and  Joseph  Packard,  descendants  of 
Charles  Lee,  who  was  a  brother  of  Light-Horse 
Harry  Lee. 

The  beautiful  character  of  Randolph  Fairfax,  a 
descendant  of  Lord  Fairfax,  who  was  killed  on 
December  13,  1862,  on  that  fatal  hill  near  Fred- 
ericksburg,  has  been  worthily  portrayed  in  a  memoir 
by  the  Rev.  Philip  Slaughter.  More  than  ten  thou 
sand  copies  of  this  memoir  were  distributed  through 
the  army  at  the  expense  of  General  Lee,  Gen. 
J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  and  other  officers  and  men,  and  no 
better  idea  of  the  exalted  character  of  young  Fair 
fax  can  be  conveyed,  than  by  extracts  copied  from 
this  little  volume: 

"  'REV.  P.  SLAUGHTER. 

"  'DEAR  SIR  :  Please  receive  enclosed  a  contribu 
tion  ($100)  to  the  very  laudable  work  alluded  to 
in  church  by  you  to-day.  It  is  very  desirable  to 
place  the  example  of  Private  Randolph  Fairfax  be 
fore  every  soldier  of  the  army.  I  am  particularly 
desirous  that  my  command  should  have  the  advant 
age  of  such  a  Christian  light  to  guide  them  on  their 


RANDOLPH   FAIKIAX 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     249 

way.     How  invincible  would  an  army  of  such  men 

be ! — men  who  never  murmur  and  who  never  flinch  ! 

"  'Very  truly  yours, 

"  *J.  E.  B.  STUART/ 

"Berkeley  Minor  says : 

"  'I  knew  Randolph  Fairfax  at  the  University 
quite  well,  but  not  so  intimately  as  I  did  after  he 
joined  this  company  (the  Rockbridge  Battery).  For 
several  months  before  his  death  I  was  his  messmate 
and  bedfellow,  and  was  able  to  note  more  fully  the 
tone  of  earnest  piety  that  pervaded  his  words  and 
actions.  He  was  unselfish,  modest,  and  uniformly 
kind  and  considerate  to  all.  If  there  was  one  trait 
in  him  more  striking  than  others,  it  was  his  calm, 
earnest,  trustful  demeanor  in  time  of  battle,  result 
ing,  I  believe,  from  his  abiding  trust  in  the  provi 
dence  and  love  of  God.  Many  fine  young  men  have 
been  removed  by  death  from  this  company,  yet  I  do 
not  think  that  any  has  been  more  deeply  lamented 
than  he.' 

"Joseph  Packard,  another  of  his  comrades, 
writes : 

"  'His  cheerful  courage,  his  coolness  and  steadi 
ness,  made  him  conspicuous  in  every  battlefield.  At 
the  battle  of  Malvern  Hill,  where  he  had  received 
a  wound  which  nine  men  out  of  ten  would  have  con 
sidered  an  excuse  for  retiring  from  the  awful  scene, 
he  persisted  in  remaining  at  his  post,  and  did  the 
work  of  two  until  the  battery  had  left  the  field.  But 


250    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

it  was  in  the  bearing,  more  than  in  the  daring,  of 
the  soldier's  life  that  his  lovely  character  displayed 
itself.  He  never  avoided  the  most  trying  and  irk 
some  duties.  If  he  had  selfishness,  those  who  knew 
him  long  and  well  as  schoolmates  and  comrades 
never  discerned  it.  More  than  once  I  have  heard 
his  beautiful  Christian  example  spoken  of  by  irreli 
gious  comrades.  Bitter  and  inexplicable  as  may  be 
the  Providence  which  has  removed  one  so  full  of 
promise  of  good  to  his  fellows,  I  feel  that  we  may 
thank  God  that  we  have  been  permitted  to  witness 
a  life  so  Christ-like  terminated  by  a  death  so  noble.' 

"Captain  Poague,  commanding  the  Rockbridge 
Battery,  says  in  a  letter  to  his  father: 

"  'In  simple  justice  to  your  son,  I  desire  to  express 
my  high  appreciation  of  his  noble  character  as  a 
soldier,  a  Christian,  and  gentleman.  Modest  and 
courteous  in  his  deportment,  charitable  and  unsel 
fish  in  his  disposition,  cheerful  and  conscientious  in 
his  performance  of  duty,  and  upright  and  consistent 
in  his  walk  and  conversation,  he  was  a  universal 
favorite  in  the  company,  and  greatly  beloved  by  his 
friends.  I  don't  think  I  have  ever  known  a  young 
man  whose  life  was  so  free  from  the  frailties  of 
human  nature,  and  whose  character  in  all  aspects 
formed  so  faultless  a  model  for  the  imitation  of 
others.  Had  his  influence  been  restricted  to  the 
silent  power  and  beauty  of  his  example,  his  life  on 
earth,  short  as  it  was,  would  not  have  been  in  vain. 
The  name  of  Randolph  Fairfax  will  not  soon  be  for- 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     251 

gotten  by  his  comrades,  and  his  family  may  be  as 
sured  that  there  are  many  who,  strangers  as  they 
are,  deeply  sympathize  with  them  in  their  bereave 
ment.' 

"The  following  from  General  Lee  will  be  a  fit 
climax  to  the  foregoing  tributes : 
"  'CAMP  FREDERICKSBURG,  December  28,  1862. 

"  'MY  DEAR  DOCTOR  :  I  have  grieved  most 
deeply  at  the  death  of  your  noble  son.  I  have 
watched  his  conduct  from  the  commencement  of 
the  war,  and  have  pointed  with  pride  to  the  patriot 
ism,  self-denial,  and  manliness  of  character  he  has 
exhibited.  I  had  hoped  that  an  opportunity  would 
have  occurred  for  the  promotion  he  deserved ;  not 
that  it  would  have  elevated  him,  but  have  shown 
that  his  devotion  to  duty  was  appreciated  by  his 
country.  Such  an  opportunity  would  undoubtedly 
have  occurred ;  but  he  has  been  translated  to  a  bet 
ter  world  for  which  his  purity  and  his  piety  have 
eminently  fitted  him.  You  do  not  require  to  be  told 
how  great  his  gain.  It  is  the  living  for  whom  I 
sorrow.  I  beg  you  will  offer  to  Airs.  Fairfax  and 
your  daughters  my  heartfelt  sympathy,  for  I  know 
the  depth  of  their  grief.  That  God  may  give  you 
and  them  strength  to  bear  this  great  affliction  is 
the  earnest  prayer  of  your  early  friend, 

"  'R.  E.  LEE. 

"  'Dr.  Orlando  Fairfax.'  " 

A  son  and  two  nephews  of  Hon.  A.  R.  Boteler. 

A  son  of  Governor  Gilmer,  of  Virginia. 


252     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

S.  H.  Letcher,  brother  of  War-Governor  John 
Letcher. 

Mercer  Otey,  graduate  of  Virginia  Military  In 
stitute  and  son  of  Bishop  Otey,  of  Tennessee. 

Launcelot  M.  Blackford,  A.M.,  of  University  of 
Virginia,  who  became  adjutant  of  the  Twenty- 
sixth  Virginia  Infantry,  and  Superintendent  of  the 
Alexandria  High  School  from  the  close  of  the  war 
to  the  present  time — forty-one  years.  He  has  said 
to  the  writer  since  the  war  that  he  cherished  the 
fact  of  his  having  been  a  private  in  the  Rockbridge 
Artillery  with  more  pride  than  he  felt  in  any  honors 
he  has  since  achieved. 

Robert  A.  Gibson,  of  Petersburg,  Virginia,  now  a 
bishop  of  Virginia. 

Livingston  Massie,  of  Waynesboro,  who  became 
captain  of  another  battery  and  was  killed  in  General 
Early's  battle  of  Winchester. 

Hugh  McGuire,  of  Winchester,  brother  of  Dr. 
Hunter  McGuire,  medical  director  of  Jackson's 
corps,  whose  gallantry  won  for  him  a  captaincy  in 
cavalry  and  lost  him  his  life  on  the  retreat  to  Appo- 
mattox. 

Boyd  Faulkner,  of  Martinsburg,  son  of  Hon. 
Charles  J.  Faulkner. 

Two  Bartons  from  Winchester. 

Two  Maurys  from  Jefferson  County,  Va. 

Two  Minors  from  Albemarle  and  one  from  Han 
over  County,  Va. 

Other  members  of  the  company,  of  whom  much 


EDWARD  H.  HYDE 
( Color-bearer ) 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     253 

that  is  interesting  could  be  written,  were  Edgar  and 
Eugene  Alexander,  of  Moorefield,  West  Virginia, 
uncles  of  the  authoress,  Miss  Mary  Johnston.  The 
first  named  lost  an  arm  at  Fredericksburg,  the  sec 
ond  had  his  thigh-bone  broken  at  second  Manassas. 

William  H.  Boiling,  of  Petersburg,  Virginia,  the 
handsomest  of  eight  handsome  brothers  and  a  most 
polished  gentleman. 

Holmes  Boyd,  of  Winchester,  now  a  distinguished 
lawyer  of  that  city. 

Daniel  Blaine,  of  Williamsburg,  since  the  war  a 
Presbyterian  divine. 

Robert  Frazer,  of  Culpeper,  an  accomplished 
scholar  and  prominent  educator. 

William  L.  Gilliam,  of  Powhatan  County. 

Campbell  Heiskell,  of  Moor  field. 

J.  K.  Hitner,  who,  though  a  native  of  Pennsyl 
vania,  fought  through  the  war  for  the  South. 

William  F.  Johnston,  of  Rockbridge,  a  sterling 
man  and  soldier. 

Edward  Hyde,  of  Alexandria,  an  excellent  artist, 
who  devoted  most  of  his  time  in  camp  to  drawing 
sketches  of  army  life.  He  has  recently  written  me 
that  his  drawings  were  lost  in  a  canoe  in  which  he 
attempted  to  cross  James  River  on  his  journey  from 
Appomattox.  Otherwise  more  of  them  would  have 
appeared  in  this  book. 

Otho  Kean,  of  Goochland  County,  Virginia. 

John  E.  McCauley,  of  Rockbridge,  sergeant  of 
the  battery. 


254     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

William  S.  McClintic,  now  a  prominent  citizen 
of  Missouri. 

D.  D.  Magruder,  of  Frederick  County,  Virginia. 

Littleton  Macon,  of  Albemarle  County,  whose 
utterances  became  proverbial. 

Frank  Meade  and  Frank  Nelson,  of  Albemarle 
county. 

W.  C.  Gordon,  of  Lexington,  Virginia. 

Jefferson  Ruffin,  of  Henrico. 

J.  M.  Shoulder,  of  Rockbridge. 

W.  C.  Stuart,  of  Lexington,  Virginia. 

Stevens  M.  Taylor,  of  Albemarle  County,  Vir 
ginia. 

Charles  M.  Trueheart,  now  a  physician  in  Gal- 
veston,  Texas. 

Thomas  M.  Wade,  of  Lexington,  Virginia. 

W.  H.  White,  of  Lexington,  Virginia. 

Calvin  Wilson,  of  Cumberland  County. 

John  Withrow,  of  Lexington,  Virginia. 

William  M.  Wilson,  of  Rockbridge,  who  went  by 
the  name  of  "Billy  Zu,"  abbreviated  for  zouave; 
and  many  other  fine  fellows,  most  of  whom  have 
long  since  "passed  over  the  river." 

Corporal  A.  S.  Whitt,  gunner  of  the  fourth  piece, 
deserves  more  than  casual  mention.  His  clear,  blue 
eye,  ruddy  complexion,  and  well-kept  beard,  and 
above  all  his  merry  laugh,  made  him  attractive.  The 
following  incident  will  recall  him  most  vividly: 

Our  camp  in  Orange  County,  known  as  "Blue 
Run  Church,"  occupied  a  piece  of  woodland,  the 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     255 

ground  sloping  to  a  little  ravine  along  which  flowed 
a  spring-branch,  whose  pools  afforded  bowls  for 
our  morning  face-washing,  and  whose  source,  100 
yards  above,  delicious  drinking  w^ater.  Approach 
ing  the  little  stream  one  morning.  I  came  upon  Whitt 
standing  with  a  foot  on  either  side  of  it,  sleeves 
rolled  up  and  shirt  collar  tucked  in,  busily  engaged. 
As  he  straightened  up  to  greet  me,  his  eyes  caught 
the  sun  just  risen,  and  turning  toward  it,  his  full 
brown  beard  spangled  with  the  glistening  beads  of 
water,  his  face  lit  up  with  a  smile  and  uplifted 
hand,  he  rolled  out  in  that  clear  baritone  voice : 

''Hail!      Hail!      Smiling  morn,   smiling  morn. 
That  tips  the  hills  with  gold,  that  tips  the  hills  with  gold. 
Whose  rosy  fingers  ope  the  gates  of  day. 
Hail!     Hail!" 

Grand  old  Gunner  Whitt !  who  could  land  a  20- 
pound  shot  within  a  hair's  breadth  and  not  miss. 
I  doubt  not  that  in  a  realm  where  the  wild  battle- 
cry  and  the  wicked  scream  of  shells  are  unknown, 
again  and  in  still  richer  tones,  his  salutation  is, 
"Hail!  Hail!  All  Hail!" 

A  very  interesting  personality  in  our  battery  was 
George  Hostetter,  a  stalwart  youth,  very  erect,  with 
large,  dark  eyes.  Born  and  bred  in  the  mountains 
of  Rockbridge,  his  surroundings  had  familiarized 
him  with  the  calls  of  the  wild,  and  to  mock  the 
various  birds  and  animals  of  the  forest  was  one  of 
his  pastimes.  The  bugle  call  for  reveille  he  fre 
quently  anticipated  by  crowing  like  a  rooster,  and 


256    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

so  perfect  was  the  imitation  that  in  the  semi-con 
scious  state  before  waking  one  would  expect  to  see 
and  hear  the  ordinary  accompaniments  of  the  farm 
yard.  As  my  companion  on  a  hunt  one  morning, 
his  skill  (knowledge)  in  woodcraft  served  me  well. 
Finding  that  the  small  slugs  used  on  partridges  were 
only  laughed  at  by  a  squirrel,  he  drew  from  his 
pocket  and  handed  me  four  Minie-balls,  which  he 
must  have  charmed,  as  with  them  I  brought  down 
three  squirrels  and  a  pheasant,  but  had  no  such 
luck  on  later  occasions.  After  removing  his  shoes 
he  went  stealthily  in  advance,  his  shrill  whistle  be 
ing  a  sure  signal  that  he  had  "treed." 

After  serving  two  years  in  the  battery,  Hostetter 
announced  that  he  was  tired  of  wheeled-guns  and 
would  try  the  infantry  and  be  "sergeant  of  his  own 
piece,"  as  he  expressed  it.  This  he  did  by  exchang 
ing  places  with  a  man  in  the  Twenty-seventh  Regi 
ment.  In  the  battle  of  the  Wilderness,  scorning  the 
protection  of  breastworks,  he  advanced  to  the  front, 
and  after  ringing  out  the  defiant  challenge  of  a 
game-cock  he  would  call  on  the  "Yanks  to  stand  up 
and  fight." 

Returning  to  his  mountain  home  at  the  close  of 
the  war  his  ante-bellum  life  was  resumed  until  closed 
after  several  years  by  a  tragic  death.  Having  taken 
his  gun  out  one  Sunday  morning  to  shoot  a  maraud 
ing  fox,  he  saw  a  party  passing  by  on  their  way  to 
church,  and  with  Stonewall  Jackson's  idea  that  only 
the  exigencies  of  war  could  justify  the  desecra- 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     257 

tion  of  the  Sabbath,  to  conceal  his  gun  undertook 
to  drag  it.  The  gun  was  accidentally  discharged, 
inflicting  a  mortal  wound  from  which,  after  a 
week's  suffering,  he  died. 

In  this  company  were  all  classes  of  society  and 
all  grades  of  intelligence,  from  the  most  cultured 
scholars  to  the  lowest  degree  of  illiteracy.  We  had 
men  who  had  formerly  been  gentlemen  of  leisure, 
lawyers,  physicians,  students  of  divinity,  teachers, 
merchants,  farmers  and  mechanics,  ranging  in  age 
from  boys  of  seventeen  to  matured  men  in  the 
forties  and  from  all  parts  of  the  South  and  several 
from  Northern  States,  as  well  as  Irish  and  Ger 
mans.  At  one  camp-fire  could  be  heard  discussions 
on  literature,  philosophy,  science,  etc.,  and  at  an 
other  horse-talk.  The  tone  of  the  company  was 
decidedly  moral,  and  there  was  comparatively  little 
profanity.  In  addition  to  the  services  conducted  by 
the  chaplain  of  the  battalion,  Rev.  Henry  White, 
prayer-meetings  were  regularly  held  by  the  theo 
logical  students.  Then  we  had  men  that  swore  like 
troopers.  "Irish  Emmett,"  whose  face  was  dotted 
with  grains  of  powder  imbedded  under  the  skin, 
could  growl  out  oaths  through  half -clenched  teeth 
that  chilled  one's  blood. 

One  man,  Michael,  a  conscript  from  another 
county,  a  full-grown  man,  weighing  perhaps  one 
hundred  and  seventy-five  pounds,  was  a  chronic  cry 
baby  ;  unfit  for  other  service,  he  was  assigned  assist 
ant  at  the  forge,  and  would  lie  with  face  to  the 


258    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

ground  and  moan  out,  "I  want  to  go  home,  I  want 
to  go  home,"  and  sob  by  the  hour. 

Another,  a  primitive  man  from  the  German  for 
ests,  whose  language  was  scarcely  intelligible,  lived 
entirely  to  himself  and  constructed  his  shelter  of 
brush  and  leaves — as  would  a  bear  preparing  to 
hibernate.  In  his  ignorance  of  the  use  of  an  axe  I 
saw  him,  in  felling  a  tree,  "throw"  it  so  that  it  fell 
on  and  killed  a  horse  tied  nearby.  On  seeing  what 
he  had  done,  his  lamentation  over  the  dying  animal 
was  pathetic. 

The  death  of  this  horse  was  peculiar.  I  have 
seen  horses  wounded  and  mutilated  in  every  degree 
of  severity — some  partially  disemboweled,  but  still 
on  their  feet,  turning  round  and  round  in  one  spot, 
till  they  lay  down  to  die ;  others  with  great  furrows 
plowed  along  their  backs  or  sides,  others  still,  with 
a  leg  shot  away,  tossing  the  head  up  and  down  as 
they  labored  to  follow  on,  but  all  too  brave  to  utter 
other  than  a  half-suppressed  groan.  But  this  old 
gray  went  down  with  a  piercing  cry,  which  besides 
giving  expression  to  intense  pain  seemed  a  rebuke 
as  well  to  the  stupidity  of  the  man,  who  had  brought 
him,  after  having  lived  through  so  many  fierce  bat 
tles,  to  such  an  ignoble  end. 

As  a  school  for  the  study  of  human  nature^  that 
afforded  in  the  various  conditions  of  army  life  is 
unsurpassed — a  life  in  which  danger,  fatigue,  hun 
ger,  etc.,  leave  no  room  for  dissimulation,  and  ex 
pose  the  good  and  bad  in  each  individual  to  the 
knowledge  of  his  associates. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     259 

It  sometimes  fell  to  my  lot  to  be  on  guard-duty 
with  Tom  Martin,  an  Irishman  who  was  over  forty- 
five  and  exempt  from  military  service,  but  was  sol 
diering  for  the  love  of  it.  Sometimes  he  was  very 
taciturn  and  entirely  absorbed  with  his  short- 
stemmed  pipe;  at  other  times  full  of  humor  and 
entertaining.  He  gave  me  an  account,  one  night 
while  on  post,  of  what  he  called  his  ''great  flank 
movement" — in  other  words,  a  visit  to  his  home  in 
Rockbridge  without  leave.  After  Doran,  another 
Irishman,  had  been  disabled  at  Malvern  Hill  and 
discharged  from  service,  he  became  a  sort  of  huck 
ster  for  the  battery  and  would  make  trips  to  and 
from  Rockbridge  with  a  wagon-load  of  boxes  from 
our  homes  and  also  a  supply  of  apple-brandy.  While 
camped  at  Bunker  Hill  in  the  fall  of  1862,  shortly 
after  Doran  arrived  with  his  load,  Captain  Poague, 
observing  more  than  an  ordinary  degree  of  hilarity 
among  some  of  the  men,  had  the  wagon  searched, 
the  brandy  brought  forth,  confiscated,  and  emptied 
on  the  ground.  Martin,  greatly  outraged  at  the  ill- 
treatment  of  a  fellow-son  of  Erin,  and  still  more  so 
at  the  loss  of  so  much  good  liquor,  forthwith  re 
solved  to  take  his  revenge  on  the  Captain  by  taking 
"French  leave." 

To  escape  the  vigilance  of  provost-guards  and 
deserter-hunters,  he  made  his  way  to  the  foothills 
of  the  North  Mountain,  and  in  the  course  of  his 
journey  stumbled  on  a  still-house  in  one  of  its  se 
cluded  glens.  To  the  proprietor,  who  was  making 


260     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

a  run  of  apple-brandy,  and  who  proved  to  be  "a 
man  after  me  own  heart,"  Martin  imparted  his 
grievances.  "I  tould  him,"  he  said,  "I  hadn't  a 
cint,  but  he  poured  me  a  tin  chuck-full.  With 
thanks  in  me  eyes  I  turned  off  the  whole  of  it,  then 
kindled  me  pipe  and  stood  close  by  the  still.  Ah! 
me  lad,  how  the  liquor  wint  through  me !  In  thray 
minits  I  didn't  care  a  domn  for  all  the  captins  in 
old  Stone  wall's  army!" 

With  various  adventures  he  made  his  way  home, 
returned  to  the  company  of  his  own  accord,  was 
wounded  at  Gettysburg,  captured,  and  spent  the 
remainder  of  war-time  in  prison. 

Rader,  who  drove  the  lead-horses  at  my  gun 
almost  throughout  the  war,  is  mentioned  elsewhere, 
but  his  record,  as  well  as  his  pranks  and  drollery, 
coupled  with  his  taciturnity,  were  interesting. 
While  sitting  on  his  saddle-horse  in  one  battle  he 
was  knocked  full  length  to  the  ground  by  a  bursting 
shell.  When  those  nearby  ran  to  pick  him  up  they 
asked  if  he  was  much  hurt.  "No,"  he  said,  "I  am 
just  skeered  to  death."  At  Sharpsburg,  while  lying- 
down,  holding  his  gray  mares,  a  shell  tore  a  trench 
close  alongside  of  him  and  hoisted  him  horizontally 
into  the  air.  On  recovering  his  feet  he  staggered 
off,  completely  dazed  by  the  concussion.  In  the 
first  battle  of  Fredericksburg  he  was  struck  and 
disabled  for  a  time.  At  Gettysburg,  as  the  same 
animals,  frightened  by  a  bursting  shell,  wheeled  to 
run,  he  seized  the  bridle  of  the  leader  just  as  it  was 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     261 

struck  by  a  shell,  which  burst  at  the  moment,  in 
stantly  killing  the  two  grays  and  the  two  horses 
next  to  them,  and  stunning  Rader  as  before.  But, 
with  all  of  his  close  calls,  his  skin  was  never  broken. 
Instead  of  currying  his  horses  during  the  time 
allotted  for  that  wrork  he  seemed  to  occupy  himself 
teaching  them  "tricks,"  but  his  was  the  best-groomed 
team  in  the  battery. 

While  on  guard  one  cold  night,  as  the  wagon 
drivers  were  sleeping  quietly  on  a  bed  of  loose  straw 
near  a  blazing  fire,  I  saw  Rader  creep  up  stealthily 
and  apply  a  torch  at  several  places,  wait  until  it 
was  well  ignited,  and  then  run  and  yell  "Eire!"  then 
repeat  the  sport  an  hour  later.  Vanpelt  carried  an 
enormous  knapsack  captured  from  Banks  and 
branded  "10th  Maine/'  While  halting  on  the  march 
it  was  Rader  s  amusement,  especially  when  some 
outsider  was  passing  by,  to  set  his  whip-stock  as  a 
prop  under  it,  go  through  the  motions  of  grinding, 
and  rattle  off  the  music  of  a  hand-organ  with  his 
mouth  until  chased  away  by  his  victim.  He  mys 
teriously  vanished  from  Rockbridge  after  the  war, 
and  has  never  since  been  located. 

Few  men  in  this  battery  made  a  finer  record  than 
did  Wm.  H.  AlcCampbell,  a  native  of  Lexington, 
and  since  the  war  a  resident  of  Roanoke  County, 
Va.  He  took  part  in  every  engagement  from  Haines- 
ville  in  '61  to  Appomattox  in  '65,  except  Malvern 
Hill,  when  he  was  in  hospital.  He  was  twice 
wounded,  captured  at  Gettysburg  and  escaped,  and 


262     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

is  probably  entitled  to  the  distinction  of  having 
"pulled  the  lanyard"  oftener,  that  is  fired  more 
shots,  than  any  other  cannoneer  in  the  whole  army. 

One  of  the  most  striking  characters  in  the  com 
pany  was  "General"  Jake,  as  we  called  him,  whose 
passion  for  war  kept  him  always  in  the  army,  while 
his  aversion  to  battle  kept  him  always  in  the  rear. 
After  serving  a  year  with  us,  being  over  military 
age,  he  got  a  discharge,  but  soon  joined  the  Rock- 
bridge  cavalry  as  a  substitute,  where  six  legs,  in 
stead  of  two,  afforded  three-fold  opportunities.  An 
interview  between  the  "General"  and  one  of  our 
company,  as  he  viewed  the  former  and  was  struck 
with  his  appearance,  was  as  follows : 

"Well,  'General,'  you  are  the  most  perfect-look 
ing  specimen  of  a  soldier  I  ever  beheld.  That  pierc 
ing  eye,  the  grizzly  mustache,  the  firm  jaw,  the  pose 
of  the  head,  that  voice — in  fact,  the  whole  make-up 
fills  to  the  full  the  measure  of  a  man  of  war." 

The  "General,"  with  a  graceful  bow  and  a  deep 
roll  in  his  voice,  replied,  "Sire,  in  enumerating  the 
items  which  go  to  constitute  a  great  general  I  notice 
the  omission  of  one  requisite,  the  absence  of  which 
in  my  outfit  lost  to  the  cause  a  genius  in  council  and 
a  mighty  leader  in  battle." 

"What  was  that,  'General' !" 

"Sire,  it  goes  by  the  name  of  Cour-ridge." 

Estimates  of  things  are  governed  by  comparison, 
and  no  better  idea  of  the  Southern  army  could  be 
had  than  that  given  by  a  knowledge  of  its  numbers, 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     263 

equipment,  etc.,  as  compared  with  those  of  its  ad 
versary  throughout  the  four  years  of  the  war.  This 
can  be  illustrated  by  a  sketch  of  the  Rockbridge 
Artillery  in  that  respect,  beginning  with  its  entrance 
into  service,  as  a  type  of  the  whole  army. 

The  guns  with  which  this  company  set  out  from 
Lexington  were  two  smooth-bore  six-pound  brass 
pieces  used  by  Stonewall  Jackson  for  drilling  the 
cadets  at  the  Virginia  Military  Institute,  which 
were  coupled  together  and  drawn  by  one  pair  of 
horses  to  Staunton.  I  must  pause  here  and  relate 
an  incident  which  occurred  at  that  period,  in  which 
these  guns  played  a  part.  Among  the  cadets  was 
one — Hountsell — who  was  considered  as  great  an 
enigma  as  Jackson  himself.  In  some  of  the  various 
evolutions  of  the  drill  it  was  necessary  for  the  cadets 
to  trot.  This  gait  Hountsell  failed  to  adopt,  and 
was  reported  to  the  superintendent  with  the  specifi 
cation  "for  failing  to  trot."  Hountsell  handed  in 
his  written  excuse  as  follows,  "I  am  reported  by 
Major  Jackson  for  failing,  at  artillery  drill,  to  trot. 
My  excuse  is,  I  am  a  natural  pacer."  It  would  be 
interesting  to  know  the  workings  of  Stone  wall's 
mind  when  perusing  this  reply. 

After  reaching  Harper's  Ferry  two  more  six- 
pound  brass  pieces  were  received  for  this  battery 
from  Richmond.  As  there  were  no  caissons  for 
these  four  guns,  farm-wagons  were  used,  into  which 
boxes  of  ammunition,  together  with  chests  contain 
ing  rations  for  the  men,  were  loaded.  In  addition 


264    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

to  friction-primers  of  modern  invention  at  that  time 
for  firing  cannon,  the  old-time  "slow  matches"  and 
"port-fires"  were  in  stock.  So  .that,  in  preparing 
for  battle  with  General  Patterson's  army  at  Haines- 
ville  on  July  2,  1861,  the  ammunition-boxes,  provi 
sion-chests,  etc.,  being  loaded  indiscriminately  into 
the  same  wagon,  were  all  taken  out  and  placed  on 
the  ground.  The  "port-fire,"  adjusted  in  a  brass 
tube  on  the  end  of  a  wooden  stick,  was  lighted,  and 
the  stick  stuck  in  the  ground  by  the  gun,  to  give 
a  light  in  case  the  friction-primer  failed.  This  pro 
vision  was  due  to  the  fact  that  Captain  Pendleton 
was  farniliar  with  the  "port-fire,"  in  vogue  when  he 
attended  West  Point.  On  finding  that  the  friction- 
primer  was  reliable,  the  "port-fires"  were  left  stick 
ing  in  the  ground  when  the  guns  withdrew,  and  were 
captured  and  taken  as  curiosities  by  the  Federals. 

After  returning  to  Winchester,  ammunition-chests 
were  ordered  to  be  made  by  a  carpenter  of  the  town. 
Gen.  Joe  Johnston,  then  in  command  of  the  forces, 
went  in  person  with  Lieutenant  Poague,  and,  as  the 
latter  expressed  it,  reprimanded  this  carpenter  most 
unmercifully  for  his  tardiness  in  the  work.  The 
chests  were  then  quickly  completed  and  placed  on 
wagon-gears,  which  outfits  served  as  caissons,  and 
thus  equipped  the  battery  marched  to  and  fought  at 
first  Manassas.  From  captures  there  made,  these 
crude  contrivances  were  replaced  with  regular  cais 
sons,  and  for  two  of  the  six-pound  brass  pieces  two 
rifled  ten-pound  Parrotts  were  substituted  and  two 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     265 

heavier  six-pound  brass  pieces  added,  making  a  six- 
gun  battery.  Also  the  farm-wagon  harness  was 
exchanged  for  regular  artillery  harness. 

The  revolution  in  the  character  of  Confederate 
field  ordnance  thenceforward  continued,  and  every 
new  and  improved  weapon  wre  had  to  confront  in 
one  battle  we  had  to  wield  against  our  foes,  its  in 
ventors,  in  the  next. 

For  a  short  time  previous  to  and  in  the  battle  of 
Kernstown  the  battery  had  eight  guns,  two  of 
which,  made  at  the  Tredegar  Works  in  Richmond, 
were  of  very  inferior  quality  and  were  soon  discard 
ed.  The  long  and  trying  campaign  of  1862  gradually 
reduced  the  number  of  guns  to  four,  two  of  which 
were  twenty-pound  Parrotts  captured  at  Harper's 
Ferry,  one  a  twelve-pound  Napoleon  captured  at 
Richmond,  and  one  a  six-pound  brass  piece.  The 
two  last  were  replaced  by  two  more  twenty-pound 
Parrotts  captured  from  Milroy  at  Winchester  in 
June,  1863.  Each  of  these  guns  required  a  team 
of  eight  horses  and  as  many  to  a  caisson.  They 
were  recaptured  at  Deep  Bottom  below  Richmond 
in  July,  1864. 

The  battery's  connection  with  the  Stonewall  Bri 
gade  was  severed  October  1 ,  at  the  close  of  the  mem 
orable  campaign  of  1862,  and  under  the  new  regime 
became  a  part  of  the  First  Regiment  Virginia  Ar 
tillery,  commanded  by  Col.  J.  Thompson  Brown, 
afterward  by  Col.  R.  A.  Hardaway.  This  regiment 
was  made  up  of  the  second  and  third  companies  of 


266    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

Richmond  Howitzers,  the  Powhatan  battery  com 
manded  by  Captain  Dance,  the  Roanoke  battery 
commanded  by  Captain  Griffin,  and  Rockbridge  bat 
tery  commanded  by  Captain  Graham,  with  four 
guns  to  each  of  the  five  batteries. 

Our  new  companions  proved  to  be  a  fine  lot  of 
men,  and  with  them  many  strong  and  lasting  friend 
ships  were  formed. 

An  idea  of  the  spirit  with  which  the  Southern 
people  entered  into  the  war  can  best  be  conveyed  by 
some  account  of  the  wild  enthusiasm  created  by  the 
troops  and  the  unbounded  hospitality  lavished  upon 
them  as  they  proceeded  to  their  destinations  along 
the  border. 

The  Rockbridge  Artillery  traveled  by  rail  from 
Staunton  to  Strasburg.  On  their  march  of  eighteen 
miles  from  there  to  Winchester  they  were  preceded 
by  the  "Grayson  Dare-devils"  of  Virginia,  one  hun 
dred  strong,  armed  with  Mississippi  rifles  and  wear 
ing  red-flannel  shirts.  A  mile  or  two  in  advance  of 
this  company  was  the  Fourth  Alabama  Regiment, 
numbering  eight  hundred  men.  The  regiment,  on 
its  arrival  at  Newtown,  a  small  village  six  miles 
from  Winchester,  was  provided  by  the  citizens  with 
a  sumptuous  dinner.  Then  the  "Dare-devils"  were 
likewise  entertained;  but  still  the  supplies  and  hos 
pitality  of  the  people  were  not  exhausted,  as  the 
battery,  on  its  arrival,  was  served  with  a  bountiful 
meal. 

When  the  battery  reached  Winchester  their  two 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     267 

small  guns  were  stored  for  the  night  in  a  warehouse, 
and  the  men  lodged  and  entertained  in  private 
houses.  On  the  following  day  the  company  went 
by  rail  to  Harper's  Ferry,  arriving  there  after  dark. 
The  place  was  then  under  command  of  Col.  T.  J. 
Jackson,  who  was  soon  after  superseded  by  Gen. 
Joseph  E.  Johnston.  The  trains  over  the  B.  &  O. 
Railroad  were  still  running.  Evidences  of  the  John 
Brown  raid  were  plainly  visible,  and  the  engine- 
house  in  which  he  and  his  men  barricaded  them 
selves  and  were  captured  by  the  marines,  commanded 
by  Col.  R.  E.  Lee,  of  the  United  States  Army,  stood 
as  at  the  close  of  that  affair. 

One  or  both  sections  of  the  battery  were  often 
engaged  in  picket  service  along  the  Potomac  between 
Sheperdstown  and  Williamsport,  in  connection  with 
the  Second  Virginia  Regiment,  which  was  composed 
of  men  from  the  adjoining  counties.  Their  camps 
and  bivouacs  were  constantly  visited  by  the  neigh 
boring  people,  especially  ladies,  who  came  by  the 
score  in  carriages  and  otherwise,  provided  with 
abundant  refreshments  for  the  inner  man.  As  de 
scribed  by  those  who  participated  in  it  all,  the  days 
passed  as  a  series  of  military  picnics,  in  which  there 
was  no  suspicion  or  suggestion  of  the  serious  times 
that  were  to  follow.  During  the  progress  of  the 
war,  while  these  outward  demonstrations,  of  neces 
sity,  diminished,  the  devotion  on  the  part  of  the 
grand  women  of  that  war-swept  region  only  in 
creased. 


268     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

I  have  not  undertaken  to  describe  scenes  or  relate 
incidents  which  transpired  in  the  battery  before  I 
became  a  member  of  it.  But  there  is  one  scene  which 
was  often  referred  to  by  those  who  witnessed  it 
which  is  worthy  of  mention.  It  occurred  in  the  fall 
of  1861,  near  Centerville,  when  a  portion  of  the 
army,  under  Gen.  Joe  Johnston,  was  returning  from 
the  front,  where  an  attack  had  been  threatened,  and 
was  passing  along  the  highway.  A  full  moon  was 
shining  in  its  splendor,  lighting  up  the  rows  of 
stacked  arms,  parks  of  artillery,  and  the  white  tents 
which  dotted  the  plain  on  either  side.  As  column 
after  column,  with  bands  playing  and  bayonets 
glistening,  passed,  as  it  were,  in  review,  there  came, 
in  its  turn,  the  First  Maryland  Regiment  headed  by 
its  drum  corps  of  thirty  drums  rolling  in  martial 
time.  Next  came  the  First  Virginia  Regiment  with 
its  superb  band  playing  the  "Mocking-Bird,"  the 
shrill  strains  of  the  cornet,  high  above  the  volume 
of  the  music,  pouring  forth  in  exquisite  clearness  the 
notes  of  the  bird.  Scarcely  had  this  melody  passed 
out  of  hearing  when  there  came  marching  by,  in 
gallant  style,  the  four  batteries  of  the  Washington 
Artillery,  of  New  Orleans,  with  officers  on  horse 
back  and  cannoneers  mounted  on  the  guns  and  cais 
sons,  all  with  sabers  waving  in  cadence  to  the  sound 
of  their  voices,  singing,  in  its  native  French,  "The 
Marseillaise,"  that  grandest  of  all  national  airs. 

The  younger  generation  cannot  comprehend,  and 
express  surprise  that  the  old  soldiers  never  forget 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     269 

and  are  so  wrought  up  by  the  recollections  of  their 
war  experiences ;  but  to  have  participated  in  a  scene 
such  as  this  will  readily  explain  why  a  soul  should 
thrill  at  its  recurring  mention. 

In  1883,  nearly  twenty  years  after  the  war,  I  was 
called  to  Cumberland,  Maryland,  on  business.  By 
reason  of  a  reunion  of  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland 
being  held  there  at  the  time,  the  hotels  were  crowded, 
making  it  necessary  for  me  to  find  accommodations 
in  a  boarding-house.  Sitting  around  the  front  door 
of  the  house,  as  I  entered,  were  half  a  dozen  Federal 
soldiers  discussing  war-times.  The  window  of  the 
room  to  which  I  was  assigned  opened  immediately 
over  where  the  men  sat,  and  as  I  lay  in  bed  I  heard 
them  recount  their  experiences  in  battle  after  battle 
in  which  I  had  taken  part.  It  stirred  me  greatly. 
Next  morning  they  had  gone  out  when  I  went  down 
to  breakfast,  but  I  told  the  lady  of  the  house  of  my 
interest  in  their  talk  of  the  previous  night.  At  noon 
the  same  party  was  sitting  in  the  hall,  having  finished 
their  dinners,  as  I  passed  through  to  mine.  They 
greeted  me  cordially  and  said,  "We  heard  of  what 
you  said  about  overhearing  us  last  night ;  take  a  seat 
and  let's  discuss  old  times."  My  answer  was,  "I 
have  met  you  gentlemen  already  on  too  many  battle 
fields  with  an  empty  stomach,  so  wait  till  I  get  my 
dinner."  With  a  hearty  laugh  this  was  approved  of, 
and  I  joined  them  soon  after.  Most  of  them  were 
from  Ohio  and  West  Virginia.  They  said,  though, 
as  I  was  but  one  against  six,  to  say  what  I  pleased ; 


270     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

and  for  an  hour  or  more  we  discussed,  good-humor- 
edly,  many  scenes  of  mutual  interest. 

The  following  lines  are  recalled  from  Merrick's 
songs : 

"Och  hone,  by  the  man  in  the  moon ! 
You  taze  me  all  ways  that  a  woman  can  plaze ; 
For  you  dance  twice  as  high  with  that  thief,  Pat 

McGhee, 
As  you  do  when  you're  dancing  a  jig,  Love,  with 

me; 

Though  the  piper  I'd  bate,  for  fear  the  old  chate 
Wouldn't  play  you  your  favorite  chune. 

"Och  hone,  don't  provoke  me  to  do  it, 
For  there  are  girls  by  the  score 
That  would  have  me  and  more. 
Sure  there's  Katy  Nale,  that  would  jump  if  I'd  say, 
'Katy  Nale,  name  the  day.' 
And  though  you  are  fresh  and  fair  as  the  flowers 

in  May, 

And  she's  short  and  dark  as  a  cowld  winter's  day, 
If  you  don't  repent  before  Easter,  when  Lent 
Is  over,  I'll  marry  for  spite." 

SAINT    PATRICK 

"A  fig  for  St.  Denis  of  France ! 

He's  a  trumpery  fellow  to  brag  on. 
A  fig  for  St.  George  and  his  lance ! 
Who  splitted  a  heathenish  dragon. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     271 

The  saints  of  the  Welshman  and  Scot 

Are  a  pair  of  pitiful  pipers, 
Both  of  whom  may  just  travel  to  pot, 

Compared  with  the  patron  of  swipers— - 
St.  Patrick  of  Ireland,  my  boy! 

;'Och !  he  came  to  the  Emerald  Isle 

On  a  lump  of  a  paving-stone  mounted ; 
The  steamboat  he  beat  by  a  mile, 

Which  mighty  good  sailing  was  counted. 
Said  he,  'The  salt-water,  I  think. 

Makes  me  most  bloodily  thirsty. 
So  fetch  me  a  flagon  of  drink 

To  wash  down  the  mully grubs,  burst  ye ! 
A  drink  that  is  tit  for  a  saint.1 

"The  pewter  he  lifted  /;/  sport, 

And,  believe  me,  I  tell  you  no  fable, 
A  gallon  he  drank  from  the  quart 

And  planted  it  down  on  the  table. 
'A  miracle!'  every  one  cried, 

And  they  all  took  a  pull  at  the  stingo. 
They  were  capital  hands  at  the  trade, 

And  they  drank  till  they  fell;  yet,  by  jingo! 
The  pot  still  frothed  over  the  brim. 

"  'Next  day,'  quoth  his  host,  'is  a  fast 

And  there  is  naught  in  my  larder  but  mutton. 
On  Friday  who  would  serve  such  repast, 
Except  an  unchristianlike  glutton?' 


272    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

Says  Pat,  'Cease  your  nonsense,  I  beg; 

What  you  tell  me  is  nothing  but  gammon. 
Take  my  compliments  down  to  the  leg 

And  bid  it  walk  hither,  a  salmon.' 
The  leg  most  politely  complied. 

"Oh!  I  suppose  you  have  heard,  long  ago, 

How  the  snakes,  in  a  manner  quite  antic, 
He  marched  from  the  County  Mayo 

And  trundled  them  into  the  Atlantic. 
So  not  to  use  water  for  drink, 

The  people  of  Ireland  determined. 
And  for  a  mighty  good  reason,  I  think, 

Since  St.  Patrick  has  filled  it  with  vermin 
And  vipers  and  other  such  stuff. 

"The  people,  with  wonderment  struck 

At  a  pastor  so  pious  and  civil, 
Cried,  'We  are  for  you,  my  old  buck ! 

And  we'll  pitch  our  blind  gods  to  the  devil 
Who  dwells  in  hot  water  below.' 

"Och !  he  was  an  iligant  blade 

As  you'd  meet  from  Fairhead  to  Killkrumper, 
And,  though  under  the  sod  he  is  laid, 

Here  goes  his  health  in  a  bumper! 
I  wish  he  was  here,  that  my  glass 

He  might,  by  art-magic,  replenish- 
But  as  he  is  not,  why,  alas ! 

My  ditty  must  come  to  a  finish, 
Because  all  the  liquor  is  out." 


Jonx  M.  BROWX 


UXDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     273 

THE  SECOND  ROCKBRIDGE  ARTILLERY 

The  Second  Rockbridge  Artillery  Company,  or 
ganized  July  10,  1861,  like  the  first  Rockbridge  Ar 
tillery,  was  commanded  by  a  clergyman,  the  Rev. 
John  Miller,  of  Princeton,  New  Jersey,  as  captain. 
In  honor  of  his  wife's  sister.  Miss  Lily  McDowell, 
daughter  of  Governor  McDowell,  of  Virginia,  who 
furnished  in  large  part  the  outfit  of  this  company, 
it  was  named  "McDowell  Guards."  She  also  paid 
a  bounty  to  a  youth  under  military  age  to  serve  as 
her  personal  representative  in  this  company.  Miss 
McDowell  afterward  became  the  wife  of  Major 
Bernard  Wolfe,  whose  service  with  the  Rockbridge 
Battery  has  been  mentioned. 

Owing  to  lack  of  artillery  equipment,  the  Mc 
Dowell  Guards  served  as  infantry  until  January, 
1862,  in  the  Fifty-second  Virginia  Regiment,  in 
West  Virginia.  I  heard  Captain  Miller  relate  this 
anecdote,  which  occurred  in  the  battle  of  Alleghany 
Mountain.  December  12,  1861  :  A  boy  in  his  com 
pany  was  having  a  regular  duel  with  a  Federal  in 
fantryman,  whose  shots  several  times  passed  close 
to  the  boy's  head.  Finally,  when  a  bullet  knocked 
his  hat  off,  he  defiantly  called  out  to  his  adversary, 
"Hey!  You  didn't  git  me  that  time,  nuther.  You 
didn't  git  me  nary  a  time!" 

In  the  early  part  of  1862  the  McDowell  Guards 
secured  artillery  and  did  excellent  service  in  Mcln- 
tosh's  battalion  of  A.  P.  Hill's  corps  until  the  close 
of  the  wrar. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

OAKLAND RETURN    TO    CAMP OFF    DUTY    AGAIN— 

THE  RACE  FROM  NEW  MARKET  TO  FORT  GIL- 
MORE ATTACK  ON  FORT  HARRISON WINTER- 
QUARTERS  ON  THE  LINES VISITS  TO  RICHMOND 

THE  desolation  and  dejection  of  the  people  of 
Lexington  hastened  my  departure, but  before  return 
ing  to  the  army  I  spent  two  weeks  most  delightfully 
at  "Oakland,"  the  hospitable  home  of  Mrs.  Cocke, 
in  Cumberland  County,  Virginia.  This  was  the  last 
opportunity  I  had  of  enjoying  the  "old  plantation 
life,"  the  like  of  which  can  never  again  be  experi 
enced.  It  was  an  ideal  life,  the  comforts  and  ad 
vantages  of  which  only  those  who  followed  it  could 
appreciate.  Two  of  Mrs.  Cocke's  sons,  who  had 
passed  many  years  at  school  and  college  in  Lexing 
ton,  were  at  home — one  on  sick-leave ;  the  other, 
still  a  youth,  equipping  himself  for  the  cavalry  ser 
vice,  which  he  soon  entered.  William,  the  eldest 
son,  had  been  killed  at  Gettysburg  and  his  body  never 
recovered. 

Every  day  at  twelve  o'clock  sharp,  delicious  water 
melons  were  brought  from  the  icehouse  to  the  shade 
of  the  stately  oaks  which  adorned  the  spacious  lawn ; 
then,  two  hours  later,  after  a  sumptuous  dinner,  a 
small  darky  brought  from  the  kitchen  a  shovel  of 

274 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     275 

coals  (matches  were  not  a  Southern  product)  to 
light  our  pipes.  So  the  time  passed.  It  was  to  this 
hospitable  home  that  General  Lee  retired  with  his 
family  immediately  after  Appomattox,  and  was  liv 
ing  on  this  estate  when  he  accepted  the  presidency 
of  \Yashington  College. 

My  wounds  being  now  sufficiently,  or  rather  tem 
porarily,  healed,  I  embarked  about  bedtime  at  Car- 
tersville  on  the  canal  packet  boat.  On  my  way  to  a 
berth  in  the  cabin  I  noticed,  by  the  dim  light,  a 
striking-looking  man  clad  in  white  lying  in  his  berth. 
On  the  deck  of  the  boat  were  a  score  or  more  of 
negroes,  male  and  female,  singing  so  boisterously 
that  the  other  passengers  could  not  sleep.  Such 
conduct  at  this  time  was  felt  to  be  significant,  and 
the  more  so  as  the  officers  of  the  boat  refrained  from 
interfering.  Without  intimation  there  was  a  leap 
from  my  neighboring  bunk,  a  hurried  scramble  up 
the  stairway,  followed  by  a  volley  of — secular  lan 
guage,  with  a  demand  for  instantaneous  choice  be 
tween  "dead  silence  and  dead  niggers."  Thence 
forward  stillness  prevailed,  broken  at  intervals  when 
the  plaintive  windings  of  the  packet  horn,  rising  and 
falling  with  the  motion  of  the  tandem  team,  heralded 
our  approach  to  a  lock.  Who  that  ever  boarded  that 
ancient  craft,  or  dwelt  within  its  sound,  will  cease 
to  recall  the  associations  awakened  by  the  voice  of 
the  old  packet  horn? 

Next  morning  I  recognized  my  fellow-country 
man,  Bob  Greenlee,  of  the  First  Virginia  Cavalry, 


276     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

as  the  man  whose  eloquence  had  terrorized  the 
negroes.  Greenlee  has  been  aptly  styled  "a  rare  bird," 
and  the  accounts  he  gave  of  experiences  during  his 
sick-leave,  from  which  he  was  now  returning,  were 
as  good  as  "David  Harum." 

I  found  the  battery  stationed  at  New  Market,  on 
the  north  side  of  the  James,  near  Dutch  Gap.  Dur 
ing  my  absence  it  had  suffered  the  only  serious  loss 
of  the  kind  it  had  experienced  during  the  war — the 
capture  of  all  four  of  its  twenty -pound  Parrott  guns 
at  Deep  Bottom.  The  horses,  as  usual,  had  been 
taken  to  the  rear  for  safety.  The  infantry  support 
had  been  outflanked,  leaving  our  guns  almost  sur 
rounded,  so  that  the  cannoneers  escaped  with  diffi 
culty — only  one  of  them,  Andrew  Darnall,  being 
captured. 

The  ranks  of  the  company  had  been  considerably 
depleted  by  chills  and  fever,  so  prevalent  in  that 
swampy  region,  and  one  death  had  occurred — that 
of  John  Gibbs,  a  most  excellent  soldier.  Less  than 
a  week's  sojourn  was  sufficient  to  poison  my  blood 
and  reopen  an  old  wound  received  two  years  before. 
I  was  sent  to  Richmond,  but  twenty- four  hours'  ex 
perience  in  a  hospital  among  the  sick,  the  wounded, 
and  the  dying  induced  me  to  get  a  discharge  and 
work  my  way,  by  hook  and  crook,  back  to  Oakland, 
where  I  underwent  a  severe  visitation  of  chills  and 
fever.  This,  however,  was  soon  broken  up  by  quin 
ine,  and  I  again  rejoined  the  battery. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     277 

The  summer  now  drawing  to  a  close  had  been  a 
most  trying  one,  and  the  future  offered  no  sign  of 
relief.  The  situation  was  one  of  simply  waiting  to 
be  overwhelmed.  That  the  fighting  spirit  was  unim 
paired  was  demonstrated  in  every  encounter,  notably 
the  one  on  July  30,  at  The  Crater,  near  Petersburg. 

During  the  night  of  September  28  there  was  heard 
the  continued  rumbling  of  wheels  and  the  tramp  of 
large  forces  of  the  enemy  crossing  on  the  pontoon 
bridges  from  the  south  to  north  side  of  the  James. 
At  dawn  next  morning  we  hurriedly  broke  camp,  as 
did  Gary's  brigade  of  cavalry  camped  close  by,  and 
scarcely  had  time  to  reach  high  ground  and  unlimber 
before  we  were  attacked.  The  big  gaps  in  our  lines, 
entirely  undefended,  were  soon  penetrated,  and  the 
contest  quickly  became  one  of  speed  to  reach  the 
shorter  line  of  fortifications  some  five  miles  nearer 
to  and  in  sight  of  Richmond.  The  break  through 
our  lines  was  on  our  right,  which  placed  the  Federals 
almost  in  our  rear,  so  that  a  detour  of  several  miles 
on  our  part  was  necessary.  On  the  principle  that  the 
chased  dog  is  generally  the  fleetest,  we  succeeded  in 
reaching  the  breastworks,  a  short  distance  to  the  left 
of  Fort  Gilmore,  with  all  four  guns,  now  ten-pound 
Parrotts,  followed  by  the  straggling  cannoneers 
much  exhausted.  I  vividly  recall  George  Ginger, 
who  was  No.  1  at  one  of  the  guns,  as  he  came  trot 
ting  in  with  the  gun-rammer  on  his  shoulder,  which 
he  had  carried  five  miles  through  brush  and  brake 
for  want  of  time  to  replace  it  on  the  gun-carriage. 


278    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

Much  has  been  written  about  the  defense  of  Fort 
Gilmore,  and  much  controversy  as  to  who  deserved 
the  credit.  The  fact  that  a  superb  fight  was  made 
was  fully  apparent  when  we  entered  the  fort  an  hour 
later,  while  the  negroes  who  made  the  attack  were 
still  firing  from  behind  stumps  and  depressions  in 
the  cornfield  in  front,  to  which  our  artillery  replied 
with  little  effect.  The  Fort  was  occupied  by  about 
sixty  men  who,  I  understood,  were  Mississippians. 
The  ditch  in  front  was  eight  or  ten  feet  deep  and  as 
many  in  wridth.  Into  it,  urged  on  by  white  officers, 
the  negroes  leaped,  and  to  scale  the  embankment 
on  the  Fort  side  climbed  on  each  other's  shoulders, 
and  were  instantly  shot  down  as  their  heads  ap 
peared  above  it.  The  ground  beyond  was  strewn 
with  dead  and  wounded.  A  full  regiment  had  pre 
ceded  us  into  the  Fort,  but  the  charge  on  it  had 
been  repulsed  by  the  small  force  before  its  arrival. 

Next  morning  we  counted  twenty-three  dead 
negroes  in  the  ditch,  the  wounded  and  prisoners 
having  previously  been  removed.  There  was  great 
lamentation  among  them  when  "Corporal  Dick" 
fell.  He  was  a  conspicuous  leader,  jet  black,  and 
bald  as  a  badger.  A  mile  to  the  right  of  Fort  Gil- 
more  and  one- fourth  of  a  mile  in  advance  of  our 
line  of  breastworks  was  Fort  Harrison,  which  was 
feebly  garrisoned  by  reserves.  This  force  had  been 
overpowered  and  the  Fort  taken  by  the  Federals. 
Two  days  later,  and  after  it  had  been  completely 
manned  with  infantry  and  artillery,  an  unsuccess- 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     279 

ful  attempt  was  made  to  recapture  it,  of  which  we 
had  a  full  view.  The  attack  was  made  by  Colquitt's 
and  Anderson's  brigades,  while  General  Lee  stood 
on  the  parapet  of  Fort  Gilmore  with  field-glass  in 
hand,  waving  his  hat  and  cheering  lustily.  Of 
course  our  loss  in  killed,  wounded,  and  captured 
was  very  heavy.  This  ended  the  fighting,  except 
sharpshooting,  on  the  north  side  of  the  James. 

During  our  stay  in  Fort  Gilmore  a  company  of 
Reserves  from  Richmond  took  the  place  of  the 
regular  infantry.  They  were  venerable-looking  old 

o  „  J  o 

gentlemen — lawyers,  business  men,  etc.,  dressed  in 
citizens'  clothes.  In  order  to  accustom  them  to  the 
service,  we  supposed,  they  were  frequently  roused 
during  the  night  to  prepare  for  battle.  After  sev 
eral  repetitions  of  this  they  concluded,  about  two 
o'clock  one  night,  that  it  was  useless  to  retire  again 
and  go  through  the  same  performance,  so  a  party 
of  them  kindled  a  fire  and  good-humoredly  sat 
around  in  conversation  on  various  subjects,  one  of 
which  was  infant  baptism.  My  bedfellow,  Tom 
Williamson,  a  bachelor  under  twenty  years  of  age, 
being  deeply  interested  in  this  question,  of  para 
mount  importance  at  this  time,  forthwith  left  his 
bunk,  and  from  that  time  until  daylight  theology 
was  in  the  air. 

Our  battery  changed  from  the  Fort  to  a  position 
one- fourth  of  a  mile  to  the  left  of  it,  the  two  sec 
tions  being  placed  a  hundred  yards  apart,  where  we 
remained  until  March. 


280    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

It  seems  remarkable  even  now,  after  a  lapse  of 
over  forty  years,  that  under  such  conditions  and 
without  the  slightest  reasonable  hope  of  ultimate 
success  we  could  have  passed  six  months,  including 
a  severe  winter,  not  only  moderately  comfortable, 
but  ofttimes  with  real  pleasure.  Huts  and  hovels 
of  as  varied  architecture  as  the  scarcity  of  material 
at  our  disposal  could  be  shaped  into,  rose  above  or 
descended  below  the  ground.  The  best  shelters 
were  built  of  pine  logs  six  or  eight  inches  in  diame 
ter,  split  in  half,  with  the  bark-side  out.  From  a 
swamp  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  the  rear,  in  which  the 
trees  had  been  previously  felled  for  military  opera 
tions,  we  carried  our  fuel.  Several  hundred  negroes 
had  been  impressed,  in  neighboring  counties  within 
Confederate  lines,  to  work  on  the  adjacent  fortifi 
cations,  which,  by  their  industry,  soon  became  very 
strong.  In  our  immediate  front,  manning  the  Fed 
eral  works,  were  negro  troops  whose  voices  could 
be  distinctly  heard  in  darky  songs  and  speech,  and 
their  camp-fires  were  in  full  view. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  General  Early  was  dis 
tinguishing  himself  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley  with 
repeated  defeats  in  battle,  the  first  news  of  which 
reached  us  in  a  peculiar  way ;  that  is,  when  the  news 
reached  Grant's  lines  a  shotted  salute  in  celebration 
was  fired  at  us,  thus  "killing  two  birds  with  one 
stone."  These  volleys  of  shot  and  shell  produced 
consternation  among  the  negroes  working  on  our 
fortifications.  Panic-stricken,  they  would  break  for 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     281 

the  rear,  casting  aside  picks,  shovels,  or  anything 
that  retarded  speed ;  and  to  get  them  and  their  scat 
tered  tools  gathered  up  after  such  a  stampede  re 
quired  several  days.  I  was  requested,  by  a  negro 
who  had  just  experienced  one  of  these  escapades, 
to  write  a  letter  for  him  to  his  home  people.  He 
dictated  as  follows : 

"My  dear  Wife:  I  take  this  opportunity  of  tak 
ing  you  clown  a  few  words  and  telling  you  of  the 
terrible  bumming  we  was  under  yesterday.  The 
shells  fell  fast  as  hail  and  lightened  as  from  a  cloud 
— and  we  had  a  smart  run.  Give  my  love  to  Mam 
my  and  tell  her  how  we  is  sufferin'  for  somethin' 
to  eat." 

Then  followed  some  other  pieces  of  news;  then 
love  to  various  kinsmen,  with  a  message  to  each  of 
how  they  were  "sufferin'  for  somethin'  to  eat." 

The  space  between  the  two  sections  of  our  bat 
tery  was  occupied  by  infantry.  I  particularly  re 
member  the  Nineteenth  Georgia  Regiment,  a  game 
body  of  men,  whose  excellent  band  furnished  us  fine 
music.  It  was  ordered,  during  the  winter,  to  North 
Carolina  and  lost — killed  in  battle  soon  after — its 
colonel  and  adjutant,  Neil  and  Turner.  A  mile  in 
rear  of  our  lines  stood  a  church,  a  substantial  frame 
building,  which,  for  want  of  better  use,  was  con 
verted  into  a  theater.  As  in  the  recent  drafting 
every  department  of  life  had  been  invaded,  a  very 
respectable  element  of  a  histrionic  turn  was  to  be 


282     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

found  in  the  ranks.  The  stage  scenery,  as  one 
would  imagine,  was  not  gaudy  and,  of  course,  did 
not  afford  equipment  for  high  art  in  the  strict  sense ; 
but  the  doleful  conditions  of  home  life  now  in 
vogue  in  the  South  and  the  desperate  straits  for 
food  and  existence  in  camp  afforded  a  fund  of 
amusement  to  those  of  us  who  were  inclined  to 
pluck  sport  from  hopeless  conditions. 

One  of  the  performers — named  Nash — was  a 
first-rate  comedian.  As  an  interlude  he  gave  a  rep 
resentation  of  an  attempt  made  by  the  people  to 
furnish  the  army  a  Christmas  dinner.  To  give  an 
idea  of  what  a  failure  such  an  undertaking  would 
naturally  be,  when  the  people  themselves  were  al 
most  destitute,  one  thin  turkey  constituted  the  share 
for  a  regiment  close  by  us,  while  our  battery  did 
not  get  so  much  as  a  doughnut.  Nash,  in  taking 
the  thing  off,  appeared  on  the  stage  with  a  com 
panion  to  propound  leading  questions,  and,  after 
answering  one  query  after  another,  to  explain  the 
meaning  of  his  droll  conduct,  drew  his  hand  from 
the  side  pocket  of  his  blouse  and,  with  his  head 
thrown  back  and  mouth  wide  open,  poured  a  few 
dry  cracker  crumbs  down  his  throat.  When  asked 
by  the  ringman  what  that  act  signified,  he  drawled 
out,  in  lugubrious  tones,  " Soldier  eating  Christmas 
dinner!"  The  righteous  indignation  produced 
among  the  few  citizens  by  such  sacrilegious  use  of 
a  church  soon  brought  our  entertainments  to  a  close. 

Our  time  was   frequently  enlivened  by  visits  to 


UNDER  STONEWALL  JACKSON     283 


Richmond.  By  getting  a  twenty-four-hour  leave 
we  could  manage  to  spend  almost  forty-eight  hours 
in  the  city.  On  a  pass — dated,  for  instance,  Janu 
ary  13 — we  could  leave  camp  immediately  after 
reveille  and  return  in  time  for  reveille  on  the  fif 
teenth. 

That  this  would  he  the  last  winter  that  Richmond 
would  be  the  capital  of  the  Confederacy,  or  that 
the  Confederacy  itself  would  be  in  existence,  was 
a  feeling  experienced  by  all,  but  was  too  painful  a 
subject  for  general  discussion.  The  gaiety  of  the 
place  under  such  conditions,  viewed  at  this  remote 
day,  seems  astonishing.  There  the  Confederate 
Congress  and  the  Virginia  Legislature  held  their 
sessions ;  and  there  were  the  numerous  employees 
of  State  and  Nation,  and  refugees  from  various 
parts  of  the  South,  and.  besides,  it  was  the  great 
manufacturing  center  of  that  section,  employing 
mechanics  and  artisans  of  every  calling.  For  four 
years  this  mixed  multitude  had  listened  to  the 
thunder  of  cannon  almost  at  their  doors,  and  had 
seen  old  men  and  boys  called  out  by  day  and  by 
night  to  meet  some  extraordinary  emergency,  while 
it  was  no  uncommon  occurrence  for  hundreds  of 
sick,  wounded,  and  dead  men  to  be  borne  through 
the  streets  to  the  overflowing  hospitals  and  ceme 
teries.  One  surprising  feature  of  it  was  to  see  how 
readily  all  adapted  themselves  to  such  a  life. 

My  first  social  visit,  in  company  with  my  mess 
mate,  James  Gilmer,  of  Charlottesville,  Virginia, 


284    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

was  to  call  on  some  lady  friends,  formerly  of  Win 
chester.  We  found  these  ladies  starting  to  an  egg- 
nog  at  the  house  of  some  friends — the  Misses  Mun- 
ford — with  instructions  to  invite  their  escorts.  This 
position  we  gladly  accepted,  and  were  soon  ushered 
into  the  presence  of  some  of  the  celebrated  beauties 
of  Richmond,  and  were  entertained  as  graciously 
as  if  we  had  been  officers  of  high  rank.  The  cli 
max  of  this  visit  was  as  we  were  returning  to  camp 
the  next  afternoon.  We  overtook  Tazewell  Mc- 
Corkle,  of  Lynchburg,  the  only  member  of  our 
company  who  could  afford  the  luxury  of  being 
married  and  having  his  wife  nearby.  He  had  just 
received  a  box  from  home,  and  invited  us  to  go 
with  him  to  his  wife's  boarding-house  and  partake 
of  its  contents.  While  enjoying  and  expressing  our 
appreciation  of  the  good  things,  McCorkle  told  us 
of  the  impression  the  sight  of  old-time  luxuries  had 
made  on  their  host,  Mr.  Turner,  a  devout  old  Bap 
tist,  who,  with  uplifted  hands,  exclaimed,  as  it  first 
met  his  gaze,  "Pound-cake,  as  I  pray  to  be  saved !" 
Since  the  burning  of  the  Virginia  Military  Insti 
tute  barracks,  by  Hunter  at  Lexington,  the  school 
had  been  transferred  to  Richmond  and  occupied  the 
almshouse.  This,  on  my  visits  to  the  city,  I  made 
my  headquarters,  and,  preparatory  to  calling  on  my 
lady  acquaintances,  was  kindly  supplied  with  out 
fits  in  apparel  by  my  friends  among  the  professors. 
Having  developed,  since  entering  the  service,  from 
a  mere  youth  in  size  to  a  man  of  two  hundred 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     285 

pounds,  to  fit  me  out  in  becoming  style  was  no 
simple  matter.  I  recall  one  occasion  when  I  started 
out  on  my  visiting-round,  wearing  Frank  Preston's 
coat,  Henry  Wise's  trousers,  and  Col.  John  Ross's 
waistcoat,  and  was  assured  by  my  benefactors  that 
I  looked  like  a  brigadier-general.  Sometimes  as 
many  as  four  or  six  of  our  company,  having  leave 
of  absence  at  the  same  time,  would  rendezvous  t<> 
return  together  in  the  small  hours  of  the  night, 
through  Rocketts,  where  "hold-ups"  were  not  un 
common,  and  recount  our  various  experiences  as 
we  proceeded  campward. 

Indications  of  the  hopelessness  of  the  Confeder 
acy  had,  by  midwinter,  become  very  much  in  evi 
dence,  with  but  little  effort  at  concealment.  Con 
ferences  on  the  subject  among  the  members  of  com 
panies  and  regiments  were  of  almost  daily  occur 
rence,  in  which  there  was  much  discussion  as  to 
what  course  should  be  pursued  when  and  after  the 
worst  came.  Many  resolutions  were  passed  in  these 
meetings,  avowing  the  utmost  loyalty  to  the  cause, 
and  the  determination  to  fight  to  the  death.  In  one 
regiment  not  far  from  our  battery  a  resolution  was 
offered  which  did  not  meet  the  approbation  of  all 
concerned,  and  was  finally  passed  in  a  form  qualified 
thus,  "Resolved,  that  in  case  our  army  is  over 
whelmed  and  broken  up,  we  will  bushwack  them ; 
-  that  is,  some  of  us  will." 

Notwithstanding  all  this  apprehension,  scant  ra 
tions  and  general  discomfort,  the  pluck  and  spirit 


286     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

of  the  great  majority  of  our  men  continued  un 
abated.  To  give  an  idea  of  the  insufficiency  of  the 
rations  we  received  at  this  time,  the  following  inci 
dent  which  I  witnessed  will  suffice :  Immediately 
after  finishing  his  breakfast,  one  of  our  company 
invested  five  dollars  in  five  loaves  of  bread.  After 
devouring  three  of  them,  his  appetite  was  suffi 
ciently  appeased  to  enable  him  to  negotiate  the  ex 
change  of  one  of  the  two  remaining  for  enough 
molasses  to  sweeten  the  other,  which  he  ate  at  once. 
These  loaves,  which  were  huckstered  along  the 
lines  by  venders  from  Richmond,  it  must  be  under 
stood,  were  not  full-size,  but  a  compromise  between 
a  loaf  and  a  roll. 

The  frequent  occasions  of  foraging  and  stress 
laid  on  eating,  in  these  pages,  has  doubtless  been 
noticed  and  very  naturally  and  inquiringly  by  those 
whose  lives  have  had  no  such  experience.  A  simple 
extract  quoted  from  a  Northern  source — "Recol 
lections  of  a  Private  Soldier  in  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,"  by  Frank  Wilkeson — will  suffice.  It 
reads:  "I  was  hungry — it  seems  now,  as  I  recall 
those  dark  and  bloody  days,  I  was  always  hungry." 

Desertions  were  of  almost  nightly  occurrence, 
and  occasionally  a  half-dozen  or  more  of  the  in 
fantry  on  the  picket  line  would  go  over  in  a  body 
to  the  enemy  and  give  themselves  up.  The  Fed 
erals,  who  had  material  and  facilities  for  pyrotech 
nic  displays,  one  night  exhibited  in  glaring  letters 
of  fire : 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     287 


"While  the  lamp  holds  out  to  burn. 
The  vilest  rebel  may  return." 


Toward  the  latter  part  of  March  our  battery 
moved  half  a  mile  back  of  the  line  of  breastworks. 
Two  or  more  incidents  recall,  very  distinctly  to  my 
memory,  the  camp  which  we  there  occupied.  The 
colored  boy  Joe,  who  had  cooked  for  my  mess  when 
rations  were  more  abundant,  was  on  hand  again  to 
pay  his  respects  and  furnish  music  for  our  dances. 
If  we  had  been  tramping  on  a  hard  floor  never  a 
sound  of  his  weak  violin  could  have  been  heard  ; 
but  on  the  soft,  pine  tags  we  could  go  through  the 
mazes  of  a  cotillion,  or  the  lancers,  with  apparently 
as  much  life  as  if  our  couples  had  been  composed 
of  the  two  sexes.  The  greatest  difficulty  incurred, 
in  having  a  game  of  ball,  was  the  procurement  of  a 
ball  that  would  survive  even  one  inning.  One  fail- 
blow  from  the  bat  would  sometimes  scatter  it  into 
so  many  fragments  that  the  batter  would  claim  that 
there  were  not  enough  remains  caught  by  any  one 
fielder  to  put  him  out. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

EVACUATION      OF      RICHMOND PASSING      THROUGH 

RICHMOND  BY  NIGHT THE  RETREAT BATTLE 

OF  SAILOR'S  CREEK — BATTLE  OF  CUMBERLAND 
CHURCH 

WHILE  here,  in  the  midst  of  our  gaiety,  came  the 
news  of  the  breaking  of  our  lines  near  Petersburg, 
and  with  this  a  full  comprehension  of  the  fact  that 
the  days  of  the  Confederacy  were  numbered.  I 
was  in  Richmond  on  Sunday,  April  2,  and  escorted 
to  church  a  young  lady  whose  looks  and  apparel 
were  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  beautiful  spring 
day.  The  green-checked  silk  dress  she  wore  looked 
as  fresh  and  unspotted  as  if  it  had  just  run  the 
blockade.  As  the  church  we  attended  was  not  the 
one  at  which  the  news  of  the  disaster  had  been 
handed  to  President  Davis,  our  services  were  not 
interrupted,  nor  did  I  hear  anything  of  it  until  I 
had  parted  with  her  at  her  home  and  gone  to  the 
house  of  a  relative,  Dr.  Randolph  Page's,  to  dine. 
There  I  learned  that  a  fierce  battle  had  been  fought 
at  Five  Forks,  on  the  extreme  right  of  our  line,  in 
which  the  Federals  had  gotten  possession  of  the 
railroads  by  which  our  army  was  supplied  with  food. 
This,  of  course,  necessitated  the  abandonment  of 
both  Richmond  and  Petersburg. 

As  I  passed  along  the  streets  in  the  afternoon 

288 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     289 

there  was  nothing  to  indicate  a  panicky  feeling;  in 
fact,  there  was  rather  less  commotion  than  usual, 
but  much,  no  doubt,  within  doors. 

On  arriving  at  camp  I  was  the  first  to  bring  tid 
ings  of  what  had  occurred  to  the  company,  and 
observed  the  varying  effect  produced  on  the  differ 
ent  members,  officers  and  men.  To  some  it  came 
as  relief  after  long  suspense,  while  others  seemed 
hopelessly  cast  down  and  dejected.  Orders  to  pre 
pare  to  move  soon  followed,  and  our  march  to  and 
through  Richmond  began  with  only  two  of  our  four 
guns,  the  other  two  being  left  behind  for  want  of 
horses. 

We  reached  the  city  shortly  before  midnight,  and, 
with  Estill  Waddell,  of  our  battalion,  I  passed  by 
the  home  of  some  friends,  who,  we  found,  had  re 
tired  for  the  night.  In  response  to  my  call,  the 
head  of  the  house  appeared  at  an  upper  window. 
1  had  with  me  the  few  valuables  I  possessed,  among 
them  the  brass  button  worn  on  my  jacket  and  in 
dented  by  the  shell  at  second  Cold  Harbor.  These 
I  tossed  into  the  yard,  with  the  request  that  he 
would  keep  them  for  me.  And,  some  months  after 
the  war,  the  package  was  sent  to  me  in  Lexington. 

We  could  now  see  and  realize  what  the  evacua 
tion  of  Richmond  involved.  Waddell  had  learned 
that  his  brother  James,  adjutant  of  the  Twenty- 
fourth  Virginia  Infantry,  had  been  wounded  the 
day  before  at  Petersburg,  and  was  in  the  Chimbo- 
razo  Hospital.  At  this  we  soon  arrived,  and  en- 


290     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

tered  a  large  apartment  with  low  ceiling  and  bril 
liantly  lighted.  On  row  after  row  of  cots  lay 
wounded  men,  utterly  oblivious  and  indifferent  to 
the  serious  conditions  that  disturbed  those  of  us 
who  realized  what  they  were.  Nurses  and  attend 
ants  were  extremely  scarce,  and  as  deep  silence  pre 
vailed  as  if  each  cot  contained  a  corpse. 

After  a  search  of  a  few  moments  Waddell  recog 
nized  his  brother  in  sound  sleep.  His  appearance 
for  manly  beauty,  as  we  stood  over  him,  surpassed 
that  of  any  figure  I  have  ever  seen.  His  slight, 
graceful  form  stretched  at  full  length,  a  snow-white 
forehead  fringed  with  dark  hair,  and  chin  resting 
on  his  chest,  he  lay  like  an  artist's  model  rather 
than  a  wounded  warrior,  and  the  smile  with  which 
his  brown  eyes  opened  at  the  sound  of  his  brother's 
voice  betokened  the  awakening  from  a  dream  of 
peace  and  home.  On  another  cot,  a  few  steps  far 
ther  on,  I  recognized  John  McClintic,  of  the  Rock- 
bridge  Cavalry,  and  brother  of  my  messmate.  He 
was  a  boy  of  seventeen,  with  his  arm  shattered  at 
the  shoulder.  On  the  cot  next  to  him  lay  a  man 
who  was  dying.  McClintic  and  the  others  near  him 
who  could  make  their  wants  known  were  almost 
famished  for  water,  a  bucket  of  which,  after  much 
difficulty,  we  secured  for  them.  On  the  following 
day  this  young  fellow,  rather  than  be  left  in  the 
hands  of  the  Federals,  rode  in  an  ox-cart  and  walked 
twenty  miles,  and  finally  reached  his  home  in  Rock- 
bridge. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     291 

After  leaving  the  hospital  we  passed  on  to  Main 
street  and  the  business  part  of  the  city,  where  the 
scene  would  remind  one  of  Bulwer's  description  of 
"The  Last  Days  of  Pompeii."  The  storehouses  had 
been  broken  into  and  stood  wide  open,  and  fires  had 
been  kindled  out  of  the  goods  boxes,  on  the  floors, 
to  afford  light  to  plunder.  Articles  of  liquid  na 
ture,  especially  intoxicants,  had  been  emptied  into 
the  gutters,  from  which  such  portions  as  could  be 
rescued  were  being  greedily  sought. 

From  dark  garrets  and  cellars  the  old  hags  and 
half -starved  younger  women  and  children  had 
gathered,  and  were  reaping  a  harvest  such  as  they 
had  never  dreamed  of.  I  saw  a  small  boy,  with  an 
old,  wrinkled,  grinning  woman  at  his  heels,  steer  a 
barrel  of  flour  around  a  corner  and  into  a  narrow 
alley  with  the  speed  and  skill  of  a  roustabout.  The 
fire  on  the  floors  had  not  extended  to  the  structures 
as  we  passed,  but  as  no  one  seemed  in  the  least 
concerned  or  interfered  with  their  progress  the 
flames  soon  put  in  their  work  and  spread  in  all  di 
rections. 

We  crossed  the  James  on  Mayo's  Bridge,  follow 
ing  the  road  in  a  southwesterly  direction.  With  the 
first  appearance  of  dawn  the  blowing  up  of  the 
naval  vessels  in  the  river  began,  culminating  in  a 
gigantic  explosion  that  made  the  earth  tremble. 
This  last  was  the  magazine  at  Drewry's  Bluff. 

Witnessing  such  scenes,  with  a  realization  of 
their  significance,  in  the  early  part  of  our  war  ex- 


292     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

perience  would,  no  doubt,  have  been  hopelessly 
demoralizing,  but  now  the  calmness  and  fortitude 
with  which  we  took  it  demonstrated  the  fact  that 
four  years  of  such  schooling  had  seasoned  us  to 
meet  unflinchingly  the  most  desperate  situations. 
When  broad  daylight  came  we  had  the  opportunity 
of  seeing  some  of  the  heterogeneous  elements  of 
which  Richmond  was  composed.  Disaster  had 
come  too  suddenly  to  afford  time  beforehand  for 
the  non-combatants  to  migrate,  even  if  there  had 
been  safe  places  to  which  to  flee. 

That  such  looking  objects  should  have  under 
taken  to  accompany  an  army  in  the  field,  or  rather 
into  the  fields,  indicated  what  desperate  chances 
they  were  willing  to  take  rather  than  abandon 
themselves  to  a  doubtful  fate  by  remaining  behind. 
In  addition  to  the  city  contingent  and  those  who 
garrisoned  the  forts  where  heavy  ordnance  only 
was  used,  the  line  of  march  was  joined  by  the  ma 
rine  department,  which  had  been  doing  duty  on  the 
river  craft  about  Dutch  Gap,  Drewry's  and  Chaffin's 
bluffs,  etc.  Altogether,  it  was  a  motley  combina 
tion,  which  afforded  much  amusement  and  the  usual 
sallies  of  wit  at  each  other's  expense.  The  marine 
element  was  the  most  striking  in  appearance,  and 
encumbered  wyith  enough  baggage  for  a  voyage  to 
the  North  Pole.  In  three  clays'  time  this  had  all 
been  discarded. 

After  marching  day  and  night  the  two  wings  of 
our  army,  having  been  separated  since  the  previous 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     293 

summer,  united  at  Amelia  Court  House,  about  40 
miles  from  Richmond.  Ours — that  is,  the  one  from 
the  north  side  of  the  river — had  not  been  pressed 
by  the  enemy  up  to  this  point.  As  if  in  recognition 
of  and  to  celebrate  the  reunion,  an  explosion  took 
place  far  too  violent  for  an  ordinary  salute.  Dur 
ing-  a  short  halt,  while  the  road  was  filled  with  in 
fantry  and  artillery  side  by  side,  we  felt  the  earth 
heave  under  our  feet,  followed  instantly  by  a  ter 
rific  report,  and  then  a  body  of  fire  and  fiame,  a 
hundred  feet  in  diameter,  shot  skyward  from  be 
yond  an  intervening  copse  of  woods.  It  proved  to 
be  the  blowing  up  of  sixty  caissons,  one  hundred 
and  eighty  chests  of  ammunition,  which  could  not 
be  hauled  farther  for  want  of  horses.  For  a  mo 
ment  the  roar  and  concussion  produced  consterna 
tion.  Those  who  were  standing  crouched  as  if  for 
something  to  cling  to,  and  those  sitting  sprang  to 
their  feet.  The  Crater  affair  at  Petersburg  had  not 
been  forgotten,  and  that  we  should  be  hurled  into 
space  by  some  infernal  eruption  flashed  into  our 
minds. 

Provisions  had  been  ordered  by  General  Lee  over 
the  railroad  from  Danville  to  Amelia  Court  House 
in  readiness  for  the  army  on  its  arrival  there.  By 
some  misunderstanding,  or  negligence  on  the  part 
of  the  railroad  management,  these  supplies  had  gone 
on  to  Richmond,  so  that  all  expectation  of  satisfy 
ing  hunger  was  now  gone.  Corn  on  the  cob  had 
already  been  issued  to  the  men,  which,  it  may  be 


294    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

presumed,  was  to  be  eaten  raw,  as  no  time  nor  means 
for  parching  it  was  available.  Three  of  these  "nub 
bins,"  which  had  been  preserved,  I  saw  many  years 
after  the  war. 

After  trudging  along,  with  short  halts  and  mak 
ing  very  little  progress,  our  battery  of  only  two 
guns  went  into  park  about  midnight,  but  without 
unhitching  the  horses.  After  being  roused  several 
times  from  sleep  to  march,  I  concluded,  after  the 
third  false  alarm,  to  lie  still.  When  I  awoke  some 
time  later  the  battery  had  moved  and,  in  the  dim 
light,  I  failed  to  find  the  course  it  had  taken.  Fol- 
fowing  on  for  some  distance  I  came  to  General 
Lee's  headquarters  in  a  farmhouse  by  the  roadside, 
and  was  informed  by  Capt.  James  Garnett,  one  of 
the  staff,  that  the  battery  would  soon  pass  along  the 
road  at  the  point  we  then  were.  Sitting  down  with 
my  back  against  a  tree  I,  of  course,  fell  asleep. 
From  this  I  was  shortly  roused  by  rapid  firing  close 
by,  and  saw  our  wagon-train  scattered  and  fleeing 
across  the  fields,  with  horses  at  a  run  and  hotly 
pursued  by  Federal  cavalry,  who,  with  reins  on  their 
horses'  necks,  were  firing  at  them  with  repeating 
guns.  I  was  overlooked  and  passed  by  in  the  chase 
as  too  small  game  for  them. 

The  road  over  which  I  had  passed  was  in  the 
form  of  a  semi-circle,  and  to  escape  I  obliqued 
across  the  fields  to  a  point  I  had  gone  over  an  hour 
or  two  before,  where  it  crossed  Sailor's  Creek. 
Along  the  road,  ascending  the  hill  on  the  south  side 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     295 

of  the  creek,  I  found  several  brigades  of  our  in 
fantry,  commanded  by  Ex-Governor  Billy  Smith, 
Gen.  Custis  Lee  and  Colonel  Crutch  field,  halted  in 
the  road  and  exposed  to  a  sharp  artillery  fire,  which, 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  place  was  heavily 
wooded,  was  very  accurate  and  searching.  Colonel 
Crutch  field  was  killed  here,  his  head  being  taken  off 
by  a  solid  shot.  This  was  not  a  comfortable  place 
in  which  to  linger  while  waiting  for  the  battery,  but 
comfortable  places  in  that  neighborhood  seemed 
exceedingly  scarce. 

Very  soon  my  friend,  Henry  \Yise,  who  was  a 
lieutenant  in  Huger's  battalion  of  artillery,  appeared 
on  horseback  and  informed  me  that  almost  all  of 
the  cannoneers  of  his  battalion  had  just  been  cap 
tured  and  that  he  was  then  in  search  of  men  to  take 
their  places.  I  offered  my  services,  and,  following 
the  directions  he  gave,  soon  found  his  guns,  and 
was  assigned  to  a  number  at  one  of  them  by  Lieut. 
George  Poindexter,  another  old  acquaintance  of 
Lexington. 

The  infantry  at  this  part  of  the  line  was  what 
was  left  of  Pickett's  division,  among  whom  I  recog 
nized  and  chatted  with  other  old  friends  of  the  Vir 
ginia  Military  Institute  as  we  sat  resignedly  wait 
ing  for  the  impending  storm  to  burst.  The  Federal 
cavalry  which  had  passed  me  previously  in  pursuit 
of  our  wagons,  quartermasters,  etc.,  was  part  of  a 
squadron  that  had  gotten  in  rear  of  Pickett's  men 
and  given  General  Pickett  and  staff  a  hot  chase  for 


296     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

some  distance  along  the  line  of  his  command.  Some 
of  their  men  and  horses  were  killed  in  their  eager 
ness  to  overhaul  the  General.  It  was  perfectly  evi 
dent  that  our  thin  line  of  battle  was  soon  to  be 
assaulted,  as  the  enemy's  skirmishers  were  advanc 
ing  on  our  front  and  right  flank  and  his  cannon 
sweeping  the  position  from  our  left.  We  were  not 
long  in  suspense.  Almost  simultaneously  we  were 
raked  by  missiles  from  three  directions.  To  have 
offered  resistance  would  have  been  sheer  folly.  In 
fifteen  minutes  the  few  survivors  of  Pickett's  im 
mortal  division  had  been  run  over  and  captured,  to 
gether  with  the  brigades  which  were  posted  on  their 
left. 

Lieutenant  Wise  having  failed  to  receive  any 
other  cannoneers  to  replace  those  previously  cap 
tured,  the  guns,  without  firing  a  shot,  were  left 
standing  unlimbered.  As  we  started  in  haste  to  re 
tire,  he  and  Poindexter  being  mounted,  expressed 
great  concern  lest  I,  being  on  foot,  should  be  cap 
tured.  Just  as  they  left  me,  however,  and  while 
the  air  seemed  filled  with  flying  lead  and  iron,  I 
came  upon  one  of  the  ambulance  corps  who  was  try 
ing  to  lead  an  unruly  horse.  It  was  a  Federal  cav 
alry  horse,  whose  rider  had  been  killed  in  pursuit 
of  General  Pickett.  In  the  horse's  efforts  to  break 
loose,  the  two  saddles  he  was  carrying  had  slipped 
from  his  back  and  were  dangling  underneath,  which 
increased  his  fright.  I  suggested  to  the  man  that, 
to  escape  capture,  he  had  better  give  me  the  horse, 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     297 

as  he  seemed  to  be  afraid  to  ride  him.  To  this  he 
readily  assented,  and,  with  his  knife,  cut  one  saddle 
loose,  set  the  other  on  his  back,  and  handed  me  the 
halter-strap  as  I  mounted.  The  terrified  animal, 
without  bridle  or  spur,  was  off  like  a  Mash,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  had  carried  me  out  of  the  melee.  I 
still  have  and  prize  the  saddle.  The  few  who  es 
caped  from  this  affair,  known  as  the  battle  of  Sail 
or's  Creek,  by  retreating  a  mile  north  came  in  prox 
imity  to  another  column  of  our  troops  marching  on  a 
parallel  road. 

As  I  rode  up  I  saw  General  Lee  dismounted  and 
standing  on  a  railroad  embankment,  intently  ob 
serving  our  fleeing  men,  who  now  began  to  throng 
about  him.  He  very  quietly  but  firmly  let  them 
know  that  it  would  be  best  not  to  collect  in  groups; 
the  importance  of  which  they  at  once  understood 
and  acted  on. 

Approaching  night,  which  on  previous  occasions, 
when  conditions  were  reversed,  had  interfered  to 
our  disadvantage,  now  shielded  us  from  further 
pursuit.  It  can  readily  be  seen  what  demoraliza 
tion  would  follow  such  an  exhibition  of  our  utter 
helplessness.  But  still  there  seemed  to  be  no  alter 
native  but  to  prolong  the  agony,  although  perfectly 
assured  that  we  could  not  escape  death  or  capture, 
and  that  in  a  very  brief  time.  Soon  after  nightfall 
I  found  our  battery,  which  had  traveled  over  a 
shorter  and  less  exposed  road,  and  thereby  escaped 
the  adventures  which  had  fallen  to  mv  lot.  Our 


298     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

course  was  now  toward  High  Bridge,  which  spans 
the  Appomattox  River  near  Farmville.  On  we 
toiled  throughout  the  night,  making  very  slow  prog 
ress,  but  not  halting  until  near  noon  the  following 
day.  Under  present  conditions  there  were  not  the 
ordinary  inducements  to  make  a  halt,  as  food  for 
man  and  beast  was  not  in  evidence.  I  had  not  eaten 
a  bite  for  forty-eight  hours.  Notwithstanding  this, 
and  as  if  to  draw  attention  from  our  empty  stom 
achs,  orders  came  to  countermarch  and  meet  a 
threatened  attack  on  the  line  in  our  rear.  To  this 
the  two  guns  with  their  detachments  promptly  re 
sponded,  reported  to  General  Mahone  and  took 
part  with  his  division  in  a  spirited  battle  at  Cum 
berland  Church. 

It  has  been  stated,  by  those  who  had  opportuni 
ties  of  knowing,  that  Mahone's  division  was  never 
driven  from  its  position  in  battle  throughout  the 
four  years  of  the  war.  True  or  not,  it  held  good  in 
this  case,  and  those  of  our  battery  who  took  part 
with  them  were  enthusiastic  over  the  gallant  fight 
they  made  under  circumstances  that  were  not  in 
spiring.  There  being  a  surplus  of  men  to  man  our 
two  guns,  Lieut.  Cole  Davis  and  Billy  McCauley 
procured  muskets  and  took  part  with  the  infantry 
sharpshooters.  McCauley  was  killed.  He  was  a 
model  soldier,  active  and  wiry  as  a  cat  and  tough 
as  a  hickory  sapling.  He  had  seen  infantry  service 
before  joining  our  battery,  and,  as  already  men 
tioned,  had  "rammed  home"  one  hundred  and  sev- 


LAUNCELOT  MINOR 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     299 

enty-five  shells  in  the  first  battle  of  Fredericksburg. 
Another  member  of  our  company,  Launcelot 
Minor,  a  boy  of  less  than  eighteen  years,  was  shot 
through  the  lungs  by  a  Minie-ball.  He  was  thought 
to  be  dying,  but  was  carried  from  the  field,  as  he  tells 
in  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  recently  re 
ceived  from  him:  "I  am  almost  too  old  to  begin  to 
write  a  history  of  myself,  but  will  try  to  give  you 
an  account  of  things  from  April  8th,  1865,  to  Aug 
ust,  1865,  when  I  got  back  to  my  home  in  Albe- 
marle  County,  Virginia.  After  the  line  was  formed 
at  Cumberland  Church,  and  after  we  had  extri 
cated  ourselves  from  the  swamps  at  High  Bridge, 
I  was  sent  to  burn  the  remaining  wagons,  but  was 
soon  ordered  to  the  battery,  which  was  in  action 
on  the  hill.  About  three  or  four  o'clock  that  even 
ing  I  was  shot  and  was  taken  by  Bumpus  and 
Ruffin  to  a  blacksmith-shop  some  distance  away.  I 
was  in  my  right  mind  for  several  hours  and  re 
member  that  many  came  to  tell  me  good-by  as  they 
left  the  field.  Old  Byrd,  I  remember  well,  and 
Bumpus  asking  him  if  he  could  do  anything,  and 
Byrd  said,  'You  dig  a  hole  and  he  will  be  ready 
for  it  by  the  time  it  is  done.' 

"The  next  thing  I  knew  it  was  April  18th,  and  I 
found  myself  on  a  mattress  in  the  house  of  a  Mrs. 
Hobson,  and  a  dead  Yankee  by  my  side.  My  clothes 
had  not  been  moved,  but  an  angel  woman,  Miss 
Hobson,  was  sticking  a  spoon  of  chicken  broth  into 
mv  mouth.  I  wish  I  could  describe  this  woman — 


300     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

for  I  had  been  dead  and  associated  with  the  Heav 
enly  Host,  and  thought  one  had  followed  me  to 
earth.  She  told  me  that  the  dead  Yankee  had 
taken  from  my  breast  the  note  and  fifty  cents  that 
Bumpus  had  put  there  and  replaced  it  with  five 
dollars  in  gold;  this  was  done,  she  said,  the  morn 
ing  I  'came  to'  and  he  died.  At  the  Louisville  Re 
union,  Bumpus,  whom  I  saw  for  the  first  time  since 
the  war,  told  me  that  he  had  written  the  note  and 
placed  fifty  cents  in  it,  and  it  requested  that  *  who 
ever  may  find  this  body  will  please  notify  Mrs.  Dr. 
Charles  Minor,  at  Charlottesville,  Virginia,  and 
mark  the  grave  and  accept  in  token  this  fifty  cents.' 
The  note  was  intact  when  I  came  to  myself,  but 
instead  of  fifty  cents  it  contained  five  dollars  in 
gold,  which  did  valuable  service  in  those  trying 
times.  When  I  got  home,  in  the  latter  part  of 
August,  1865,  I  found  my  mother  and  sisters  desti 
tute,  and  brother  Charles  working  to  keep  things 
alive — no  cow,  no  horses — only  an  old  blind  ox, 
not  fit  for  beef  and  too  poor  to  die.  I  have  inquired 
diligently  for  the  good  woman  who  nursed  me  to 
life,  but  could  never  learn  anything  of  her  nor  of 
my  Yankee  friend." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

APPOMATTOX 

ANOTHER  night  was  now  at  hand,  and  while  it 
might  he  supposed  that  nothing  could  be  added  to 
intensify  the  suspense  there  certainly  was  nothing 
to  allay  it.  Although  there  was  little  left  to  destroy, 
we  passed  heaps  of  burning  papers,  abandoned 
wagons,  etc.,  along  the  roadsides. 

As  each  new  scene  or  condition  in  our  lives  gives 
rise  to  some  new  and  corresponding  feeling  or  emo 
tion,  our  environment  at  this  time  was  such  as  to 
evoke  sensations  of  dread  and  apprehension  hitherto 
unknown.  Moving  parallel  with  us,  and  extending 
its  folds  like  some  huge  reptile,  was  an  army  equip 
ped  with  the  best  the  world  could  afford — three 
fold  greater  in  numbers  than  our  own — which  in 
four  years  had  never  succeeded  in  defeating  us  in 
a  general  battle,  but  which  we  had  repeatedly  routed 
and  driven  to  cover.  Impatient  of  delay  in  effect 
ing  our  overthrow  in  battle,  in  order  to  starve  us 
out,  marauding  bands  had  scoured  the  country, 
leaving  ashes  and  desolation  in  their  wake. 

That  nowr  their  opportunity  to  pay  up  old  scores 
had  come,  we  fully  realized,  and  anticipated  with 
dread  the  day  of  reckoning.  General  Grant,  who 
was  Commander-in-Chief  of  all  the  Federal  armies, 

301 


302     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

and  at  present  personally  in  command  of  the  army 
about  us,  was  by  no  means  regarded  as  a  man  of 
mercy.  He  had  positively  refused  to  exchange 
prisoners,  thousands  of  whom  on  both  sides  were 
languishing  and  dying  in  the  hands  of  their  captors. 
It  should  be  borne  in  mind,  in  this  connection,  that 
the  offers  to  exchange  had  come  from  the  Confed 
erate  authorities,  and  for  the  last  two  years  of  the 
war  had  been  invariably  rejected  by  the  Federal 
Government.  In  the  campaign  beginning  in  May, 
1864,  and  ending  with  the  evacuation  of  Richmond, 
Grant's  army  had  sustained  a  loss  greater  in  num 
ber  than  that  of  the  whole  army  opposed  to  him. 

Among  the  ranks  were  foreigners  of  every  na 
tionality.  I  had  seen,  as  prisoners  in  our  hands,  a 
whole  brigade  of  Germans  who  could  not  speak  a 
word  of  English.  During  the  preceding  winter  we 
had  been  confronted  with  regiments  of  our  former 
slaves.  Our  homes  and  people  we  were  leaving 
behind  to  the  mercy  of  these  hordes,  as  if  forever. 

Another  and  by  no  means  unimportant  consid 
eration  was  whether  to  remain  and  meet  results 
with  the  command,  or  for  each  man  to  shift  for 
himself.  Setting  out  from  Richmond  on  the  pre 
ceding  Sunday,  with  no  accumulation  of  vigor  to 
draw  on,  we  had  passed  a  week  with  food  and  sleep 
scarcely  sufficient  for  one  day;  and  to  cope  with 
such  exigencies  as  now  confronted  us,  what  a  part 
the  stomach  does  play!  All  in  all,  it  was  a  situa 
tion  of  a  lifetime  that  will  ever  abide  in  the  gloomy 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     303 

recesses  of  memory.  About  eight  o'clock  on  Sun 
day  morning,  April  9,  as  our  two  guns  were  enter 
ing  the  little  village  of  Appomattox,  several  cannon- 
shots  sounded  in  quick  succession  immediately  in 
our  front.  Without  word  of  command  we  came  to 
our  last  halt. 

Turning  out  of  the  road  we  went  into  park,  un 
hitched  our  hungry  horses,  and  awaited  develop 
ments.  During  the  two  preceding  days  several 
written  communications  had  passed  between  Gen 
erals  Lee  and  Grant,  of  which  we  knew  nothing. 
Our  suspense,  however,  was  soon  interrupted  by  the 
appearance  of  a  Confederate  officer,  accompanied 
by  a  Federal  officer  with  long,  flowing  yellow  hair, 
and  waving  a  white  handkerchief  as  they  galloped 
by.  This  was  General  Custer,  of  cavalry  fame,  and 
the  conspicuous  hero  and  victim  of  the  Indian  mas 
sacre,  which  bore  his  name,  in  Montana  ten  years 
later. 

Several  sharp  encounters  had  occurred  during 
the  morning,  in  which  our  men  displayed  the  same 
unflinching  valor,  capturing  in  a  charge  a  Federal 
major-general  (Gregg)  and  two  pieces  of  artillery; 
but  now  all  firing  had  ceased,  and  the  stillness  that 
followed  was  oppressive.  As  soon  as  it  became 
known  that  General  Lee  had  surrendered,  although 
for  days  it  had  been  perfectly  understood  that  such 
a  result  was  inevitable,  there  was  for  a  time  no  lit 
tle  excitement  and  commotion  among  the  men.  That 
we  should  be  subjected  to  abhorrent  humiliation 


304    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

was  conceived  as  a  matter  of  course,  and,  to  avoid 
it,  all  sorts  of  efforts  and  plans  to  escape  were  dis 
cussed.  The  one  controlling  influence,  however,  to 
allay  such  a  feeling  was  the  unbounded  and  unim 
paired  confidence  in  General  Lee.  The  conduct  and 
bearing  of  the  men  were  characterized  by  the  same 
sterling  qualities  they  had  always  displayed.  The 
only  exhibition  of  petulance  that  I  witnessed  was  by 
a  staff  officer  who  bore  no  scars  or  other  evidence 
of  hardships  undergone,  but  who  acquired  great 
reputation  after  the  war.  He  "could  not  submit 
to  such  degradation,"  etc.,  threw  away  his  spurs 
and  chafed  quite  dramatically.  When  a  bystander 
suggested  that  we  cut  our  way  out,  he  objected  that 
we  had  no  arms.  "We  can  follow  those  that  have." 
was  the  reply,  "and  use  the  guns  of  those  that  fall !" 
He  did  not  accede  to  the  proposition;  but  later  I 
heard  him  insist  that  one  of  our  drivers  should  let 
him  have  his  spurs,  as  he,  the  driver,  would  have 
no  further  use  for  them;  but  he  did  not  get  the 
spurs. 

By  noon,  or  soon  thereafter,  the  terms  of  the 
surrender  were  made  known — terms  so  generous, 
considerate,  and  unlooked-for  as  scarcely  believed 
to  be  possible.  None  of  that  exposure  to  the  gaze 
and  exultation  of  a  victorious  foe,  such  as  we  had 
seen  pictured  in  our  schoolbooks,  or  as  practised  by 
conquering  nations  in  all  times.  We  had  felt  it  as 
not  improbable  that,  after  an  ordeal  of  mortifying 
exposure  for  the  gratification  of  the  military,  we 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     305 

\voulcl  be  paraded  through  Northern  cities  for  the 
benefit  of  jeering  crowds.  So,  when  we  learned 
that  we  should  be  paroled,  and  go  to  our  homes 
unmolested,  the  relief  was  unbounded. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  General  Lee,  mounted  on 
"Traveler"  and  clad  in  a  spotless  new  uniform, 
passed  along  on  his  return  from  an  interview  with 
General  Grant.  I  stood  close  by  the  roadside,  along 
which  many  of  his  old  soldiers  had  gathered,  in 
anticipation  of  his  coming,  and,  in  a  life  of  more 
than  three-score  years,  with  perhaps  more  than  ordi 
nary  opportunities  of  seeing  inspiring  sights,  both 
of  God's  and  man's  creation,  the  impression  and 
effect  of  General  Lee's  face  and  appearance  as  he 
rode  by,  hat  in  hand,  stands  pre-eminent.  A  few 
of  the  men  started  to  cheer,  but  almost  instantly 
ceased,  and  stood  in  silence  with  the  others — all 
with  heads  bared. 

The  favorable  and  entirely  unexpected  terms  of 
surrender  wonderfully  restored  our  souls ;  and  at 
once  plans,  first  for  returning  to  our  homes,  and 
then  for  starting  life  anew,  afforded  ample  interest 
and  entertainment.  One  of  the  privileges  granted 
in  the  terms  of  surrender  was  the  retention,  by  offi 
cers  and  cavalrymen,  of  their  own  horses.  My  re 
cent  acquisition  at  Sailor's  Creek  had  put  me  in 
possession  of  a  horse,  but  to  retain  him  was  the  diffi 
culty,  as  I  was  neither  officer  nor  cavalryman. 
Buoyed  up  with  the  excitement  of  bursting  shells 
and  the  noise  of  battle,  he  had  carried  me  out 


306     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

gamely,  but,  this  over,  there  was  little  life  in  him.  I 
transferred  the  saddle  and  bridle  to  a  horse  aban 
doned  in  the  road  with  some  artillery,  and  left  my 
old  benefactor  standing,  with  limbs  wide  apart  and 
head  down. 

To  accomplish  my  purpose  of  going  out  with  a 
horse,  two  obstacles  had  first  to  be  overcome.  Be 
ing  only  a  cannoneer,  I  was  not  supposed  to  own  a 
horse,  so  I  must  be  something  else.  I  laid  the  case 
before  General  Pendleton,  our  old  neighbor  in  Lex 
ington,  and  my  former  school-teacher.  It  was  rather 
late  to  give  me  a  commission,  but  he  at  once  ap 
pointed  me  a  courier  on  his  staff,  and  as  such  I  was 
paroled,  and  still  have  the  valued  little  paper,  a  fac 
simile  of  which  is  shown  opposite. 

The  next  difficulty  to  be  met,  the  horse  I  had 
exchanged  for  was  branded  C.S.,  and,  even  if 
allowed  to  pass  then,  I  feared  would  be  confiscated 
later.  There  was  a  handsome  sorrel,  also  branded 
C.S.,  among  our  battery  horses,  to  which  Lieut. 
Ned  Dandridge,  of  General  Pendleton' s  staff,  had 
taken  a  fancy.  For  the  sorrel  he  substituted  a  big, 
bony  young  bay  of  his  own.  I  replaced  the  bay 
with  my  C.S.  horse,  and  was  now  equipped  for 
peace.  The  branded  sorrel  was  soon  taken  by  the 
Federals. 

The  final  parting  of  a  body  of  men  associated  as 
we  had  been  through  the  trying  years  of  what  had 
seemed  an  interminable  war,  after  having  endured 
all  things  as  we  thought;  having  together  enjoyed 


I  Vi 


a= 

*v 


s 


r*        V 


4: 


-js,— -... 


i  ^' 


V>    I 


,      ~ 


7 

s  - 

i        ^ 


I 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     307 

to  the  utmost  the  gaiety  in  camp  and  on  the  march, 
the  quick  wit,  the  jolly  jest  with  sharp  repartee,  the 
mad  rush  through  our  border  towns  on  the  heels 
of  the  fleeing  invaders,  with  the  women  and  chil 
dren  wild  with  delight  and  gratitude;  the  sight  of 
the  mighty  forces  marshalling,  preliminary  to 
battle;  the  music  of  the  bands;  the  return 
from  prison  of  companions  whose  fate  was  un 
known;  some  of  us  to  set  out  for  homes  com 
paratively  near,  some  to  those  more  or  less  remote ; 
others  to  homes  amid  hostile  surroundings,  others 
again  whose  homes  had  been  destroyed  and  loved 
ones  scattered,  while  there  stood  around  us  the  starv 
ing  horses,  our  familiar  and  faithful  friends,  still 
tied  to  the  guns  in  mute  dejection — was  an  experi 
ence  not  to  be  undergone  unmoved.  But  buoyed 
with  the  consciousness  that  we  had  fought  a  good 
fight,  continuing  even  after  our  faith  was  Finished, 
under  two  commanders  to  whom  in  military  skill, 
in  nobility  of  character,  and  in  purity  of  life,  the  rest 
of  the  world  has  produced  no  equal ;  and  last  but 
not  least,  that  the  cause  for  which  we  had  undergone 
it  all  was  not  one  we  tlw light  was  right  but 
that  we  knew  was  right.  With  associations 
such  as  these,  and  attachments  the  depth  of  which 
\vas  realized  only  in  later  years,  each  to  every 
other  said  "good-by,"  and  on  the  llth  a  party,  con 
sisting  of  Col.  Edmund  Pendleton  of  the  Eighth 
Louisiana  Regiment  (whose  family  resided  in  an 
adjoining  county),  Lieut. -Col.  W.  T.  Poague,  of 


308     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

A.  P.  Hill's  Artillery;  Lieut.  Jack  Jordan,  Sergt. 
John  McCauley,  Private  James  Lewis,  and  myself, 
of  the  Rockbridge  Artillery,  all  mounted  took  the 
road  leading  home,  occasionally  encountering  a 
Federal  officer,  attended  by  an  orderly  who  passed 
us  in  silence.  From  Canal  street  at  Lynchburg, 
along  which  we  rode,  could  be  seen  the  quiet  streets 
ascending  from  the  river,  all  dreary  and  silent,  with 
a  blue-coat  here  and  there  holding  sway.  Thence 
across  the  James  by  a  bridge  into  Amherst,  where 
we  spent  the  night  at  two  farm-houses  and  were 
most  hospitably  and  generously  entertained.  At 
Balcony  Falls  our  routes  diverged,  one  after  another 
taking  a  straight  course  home.  For  months  after 
I  reached  Lexington,  on  the  14th,  from  every  quar 
ter,  singly  and  in  pairs,  others  came  as  time  per 
mitted,  after  the  various  detached  commands  had 
laid  down  their  arms  or  Northern  prisons  discharged 
their  emaciated  inmates.  The  scarcity  of  food  in 
the  community  was  supplemented  with  rations  is 
sued  from  a  Federal  commissary  in  our  town  until 
gardens  and  truck-patches  could  be  made  available. 
After  resting  and  fattening  my  bay,  I  sold  him 
for  a  good  price,  and  was  thus  enabled  to  return  to 
Washington  College  and  serve  again  under  General 
Lee. 


APPENDIX 

UNDER  an  act  of  the  General  Assembly  of  Vir 
ginia,  1898,  the  Camps  of  Confederate  Veterans, 
organized  in  the  several  cities  and  towns  of  the 
Commonwealth,  were  authorized  to  prepare  lists  of 
the  citizens  of  their  respective  counties  who  served 
as  soldiers  during  the  war  between  the  States,  and 
of  those  belonging  to  such  companies,  and  these 
lists  were  to  be  duly  recorded  by  the  Clerks  of  the 
County  Courts  of  the  counties  and  kept  among  the 
Court  Records.  The  following  list  is  taken  from 
this  record,  and  is  as  nearly  accurate  as  is  possible 
at  this  date : 

ROCKBRIDGE  ARTILLERY 

ROLL  OF   COMPANY 

THE  enrollment  of  the  Rockbridge  Artillery  be 
gan  April  19,  1861,  and  by  the  21st  the  company 
numbered  about  seventy  men,  and  was  organized 
by  the  election  of  the  following  officers:  Captain, 
John  McCausland ;  and  J.  Bowyer  Brockenbrough, 
Win.  McLaughlin  and  \\m.  T.  Poague,  lieutenants. 
Captain  McCausland  soon  thereafter  was  made 
lieutenant-colonel  and  ordered  to  the  western  part 

309 


310    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

of  the  State.  On  the  29th  of  April  the  company 
unanimously  elected  Rev.  Wm.  N.  Pendleton  cap 
tain. 

The  company  left  Lexington  for  the  seat  of  war 
May  10,  1861,  with  two  small,  brass  six-pounders 
obtained  at  the  Virginia  Military  Institute.  It  was 
regularly  mustered  into  the  Confederate  service  at 
Staunton,  Virginia,  on  May  11,  and  at  once  ordered 
to  Harper's  Ferry,  where  it  received  two  more  guns. 
After  the  First  Brigade  was  organized,  under  Gen. 
Thomas  J.  Jackson,  the  Rockbridge  Artillery  was 
assigned  to  it,  and  continued  a  component  part  of 
the  Stonewall  Brigade,  in  touch  with  and  occupy 
ing  the  same  positions  with  it  in  all  its  battles  and 
skirmishes  up  to  Sharpsburg. 

Upon  the  reorganization  of  the  artillery,  in  Octo 
ber,  1862,  the  battery  was  assigned  to  the  First 
Regiment  Virginia  Artillery,  under  the  command 
of  Col.  J.  Thompson  Brown,  and  continued  with  it 
till  the  close  of  the  war.  The  first  fight  it  was  en 
gaged  in,  and  which  made  a  part  of  its  history,  oc 
curred  July  2  near  Hainesville,  when  General  Pat 
terson  crossed  the  Potomac  and  advanced  on  Win 
chester.  But  one  piece  was  engaged,  and  this  fired 
the  first  shot  from  a  Confederate  gun  in  the  Shen- 
andoah  Valley. 

The  battery  had  five  captains  from  first  to  last: 
First,  John  McCausland,  afterward  brigadier-gen 
eral  of  cavalry ;  second,  Rev.  Wm.  N.  Pendleton, 
D.D.,  in  command  from  May  1,  1861,  until  after 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     311 

the  first  battle  of  Manassas,  afterward  brigadier- 
general  and  chief  of  artillery  in  the  Army  of  North 
ern  Virginia;  third,  Wm.  McLaughlin,  afterward 
lieutenant-colonel  of  artillery,  in  command  until 
April  2,  1862;  fourth,  Wm.  T.  Poague,  afterward 
lieutenant-colonel  of  artillery,  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia,  in  command  until  after  the  first  battle  of 
Fredericksburg ;  fifth,  Archibald  Graham,  from  that 
time  until  the  surrender  at  Appomattox,  at  which 
place  ninety-three  men  and  officers  laid  down  their 
arms. 

This  company  had  the  reputation  of  being  one 
of  the  finest  companies  in  the  service.  So  high  was 
the  intellectual  quality  of  the  men  that  forty-five 
were  commissioned  as  officers  and  assigned  to  other 
companies  in  the  service.  Many  of  them  reached 
high  distinction.  At  no  time  during  the  war  did 
this  company  want  for  recruits,  but  it  was  so  popu 
lar  that  it  always  had  a  list  from  which  it  could 
fill  its  ranks,  which  were  sometimes  depleted  by  its 
heavy  casualties  and  numerous  promotions  from  its 
roster. 

The  following  officers  and  men  were  mustered 
into  the  service  of  the  Confederate  States  at  Staun- 
ton,  Virginia,  on  the  llth  day  of  May,  1861  : 

*Captain  W.  N.  Pendleton ;  brigadier-general,  chief 
of  artillery  A.N.V. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 


The  names  with  a  star  prefixed  are  the  men  from  Rock- 
bridge  County. 


312     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

*  First  Lieutenant  J.   B.   Brockenbrough ;  wounded 

at    first   Manassas;    captain   Baltimore   Artillery, 
major  of  artillery  A.N.V. 

*  Second    Lieutenant    Win.    McLaughlin;    captain; 

lieutenant-colonel  of  artillery. 

*Second  Lieutenant  W.  T.  Poague;  captain;  lieu 
tenant-colonel  of  artillery  A.N.V. ;  wounded  at 
second  Cold  Harbor;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*First  Sergeant  J.  McD.  Alexander;  lieutenant 
Rockbridge  Artillery;  entered  cavalry. 

*Second  Sergeant  J.  Cole  Davis;  lieutenant  Rock- 
bridge  Artillery;  wounded  at  Port  Republic; 
paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*Third  Sergeant  Archibald  Graham ;  lieutenant  and 
captain  Rockbridge  Artillery;  paroled  at  Appo 
mattox. 

PRIVATES 

*Agnor,  Jos.  S. ;  killed  at  Fredericksburg  Decem 
ber  13,  1862. 

*Ayres,  Jas. ;  discharged  for  physical  disability 
August,  1861. 

*Ayres,  N.  B. ;  deserted,  went  into  Federal  army. 

*Anderson,  S.  D. ;  killed  at  Kernstown  March  23, 
1862. 

*  Beard,  John;  killed  at  Fredericksburg  December 

13,  1862. 

*Beard,  W.  B. ;  died  from  effects  of  measles  sum 
mer  of  1861. 

*Bain,  Samuel. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     313 

*Brockenbrough,  W.   N. ;  corporal ;  transferred  to 
Baltimore  Light  Artillery. 

*Brown,    W.    M. ;    corporal,    sergeant,    lieutenant ; 

wounded  and  captured  at  Gettysburg. 
*Bumpus,  W.  N. ;  corporal ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
^Conner,   Blain ;  discharged   for   physical   disability 

in  spring,   1861. 
^Conner,   George ;   arm   broken  by   stallion ;   absent 

after  winter  of  1861-62. 
*Conner,    Jas.    A.  ;    wounded    at    Sharpsburg    and 

Gettysburg;  took  the  oath   in  prison  and  joined 

Federal  army  and  fought  Indians  in  Northwest. 
*Conner,  John  C. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Cotfee,  A.  W. 

*Craig,  John  B. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Crosen,  W. 
*Curran,  Daniel;  died  from  disease  in  summer  of 

1862. 

*Davis,  Mark;  deserted. 
*Davis,  R.  G. ;  died  from  disease  in  1861. 
*Doran,  John;  wounded  at  Malvern  Hill  in  1862; 

disabled. 
*Duclley,  R.  M. 

*Ford,  Henry;  discharged  after  one  year. 
*Ford,  Jas.  A. ;  wounded. 
*Gibbs,  J.  T.,  Jr. ;  wounded  at  Port  Republic  June 

22,  1862;  died  from  disease. 
*Gold,  J.  M. ;  captured  at  Gettysburg  and  died  in 

prison. 


314    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

*Gordon,  W.  C. ;  wounded  at  Fredericksburg ;  dis 
abled. 

*Harris,  Alex. ;  captured  at  Gettysburg  and  died  in 
prison. 

*Harris,  Bowlin;  captured  at  Gettysburg;  kept  in 
prison. 

*Hetterick,  Ferdinand;  discharged  after  one  year. 

*Henry,  N.  S. ;  corporal,  sergeant ;  paroled  at  Ap- 
pomattox. 

*Hughes,  Wm. ;  discharged. 

*Hostetter,  G.  W. ;  transferred  to  infantry. 

*  Johnson,  Lawson;  died  in  summer  of  1861. 
*Johnson,  W.  F. ;  corporal,  quartermaster  sergeant ; 

paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*Jordan,  J.  W. ;  wounded  at  first  Manassas ;  cor 
poral,  sergeant,  lieutenant;  paroled  at  Appomat 
tox. 

*Leopard,  Jas. ;  transferred  to  Carpenter's  battery. 

*Lewis,  Henry  P. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*Lewis,  R.  P. ;  transferred  to  cavalry  in  spring  of 
1862. 

*Leyburn,  John;  lieutenant  Rockbridge  Artillery; 
surgeon  on  privateer. 

*  Martin,  Thomas ;  wounded  and  captured  at  Gettys 

burg. 

*McCampbell,  D.  A. ;  died  from  disease  in  Decem 
ber,  1864. 

*McCampbell,  W.  H. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*McCluer,  John  G. ;  corporal  Rockbridge  Artillery ; 
transferred  to  cavalry. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     315 

*McCorkle,  J.  Baxter;  corporal,  sergeant,  lieuten 
ant  Rockbridge  Artillery;  killed  at  first  Fred- 
ericksburg. 

^Montgomery,  W.  G. ;  killed  at  first  Fredericksburg. 

*Moore,  D.  E. ;  corporal,  sergeant ;  wounded  at  Win 
chester  and  at  Malvern  Hill ;  paroled  at  Appomat- 
tox. 

*  Moore,  John  D. ;  quartermaster  sergeant ;  captured 

after  Gettysburg,  prisoner  until  close  of  war. 

*Moore,  Samuel  R. ;  mortally  wounded  at  Sharps- 
burg. 

*Morgan,  G.  W. ;  sick  and  absent  most  of  the  time. 

*O'Rourke,  Frank;  wounded  at  Malvern  Hill;  de 
serted. 

*Paxton,  J.  Lewis ;  sergeant ;  lost  leg  at  Kernstown. 

^Phillips,  James. 

*Preston,  Frank;  lost  an  arm  at  Winchester  May 
25,  1862;  captain  Virginia  Military  Institute 
Company. 

*Raynes,  A.  G. ;  detailed  as  miller. 

*Rader,  D.  P. ;  wounded  at  Fredericksburg  Decem 
ber  13,  1862. 

*  Rhodes,  J.  N. ;  discharged,  over  age. 

*Smith,  Joseph  S. ;  transferred  to  cavalry;  killed  in 

battle. 
*Smith,   S.  C. ;  corporal,  sergeant;  paroled  at  Ap- 

pomattox. 

*Smith,  Adam;  discharged  after  one  year. 
*Strickler,  James. 


316     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

*Strickler,   W.   L. ;  corporal,   sergeant ;   paroled   at 

Appomattox. 

*Silvey,  James;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Tharp,    Benjamin   F. ;   transferred   to   cavalry   in 

spring  of  1862. 

^Thompson,  John  A. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Thompson,  S.  G. 
*Tompkins,  J.   F. ;  corporal ;  detailed  in  Ordnance 

Department. 
*Trevy,  Jacob;  wounded  at  Gettysburg;  paroled  at 

Appomattox. 
*Wallace,   John;   killed   at   Kernstown   March   23, 

1862. 
*Wilson,  S.  A. ;  discharged  for  physical  disability 

August,  1861 ;  joined  cavalry. 

The  following  joined  the  battery  after  May  11, 
1861  ;  dates  of  enlistment  being  given  as  far  as 
known : 

*  Adams,   Thomas   T. ;   enlisted    1863;   discharged; 

later  killed  in  battle. 

*Adkins,  Blackburn;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Agnor,  Oscar  W. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Agnor,  John;  enlisted  July  21,  1861. 
*Agnor,  Jonathan;  enlisted  July  29,  1861 ;  killed  at 

Kernstown  May  25,  1862. 
*Agnor,  Samuel  S. ;  enlisted  fall  of  1862. 
Alexander,  Edgar  S. ;  enlisted  September  2,  1861 ; 

lost  an  arm  at  Fredericksburg,  1862. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     317 

Alexander,  Eugene;  enlisted  August  23,  1861; 
wounded  at  second  Manassas ;  transferred  to  cav 
alry. 

Armisted,  Charles  J. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Arnold,  A.  E. ;  enlisted  September  1,  1861;  cor 
poral,  assistant  surgeon. 

Bacon,  Edloe  P. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Bacon,  Edloe  P.,  Jr. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Baldwin,  William  Ludwell,  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Barger,  William  G. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Barton,  David  R. ;  enlisted  June  27,  1861  ;  lieuten 
ant  in  Cutshaw's  battery;  killed. 

Barton,  Robert  T. ;  enlisted  March  7,  1862. 

Bedinger,  G.  R. ;  July  9,  1861;  transferred  to  in 
fantry;  killed  at  Gettysburg;  captain. 

Bealle,  Jerry  T. ;  enlisted  November  21,  1861. 

Bell,  Robert  S. ;  enlisted  November  19,  1861  ;  killed 
at  Rappahannock  Station. 

*Black,  Benjamin  F. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Blain,  Daniel;  enlisted  May  27,  1861;  detailed  in 
Ordnance  Department;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Blackford,  L.  M. ;  enlisted  September  2,  1861;  ad 
jutant  Twenty-sixth  Virginia  Infantry. 

Boiling,  W.  H.;  enlisted  March  10,  1862;  corporal. 

Boteler,  A.  R.,  Jr. ;  enlisted  March  1,  1862 ;  wounded 
May  25,  1862. 

Boteler,  Charles  P.;  enlisted  October  23,  1861; 
transferred  to  cavalry. 

Boteler,  Henry;  enlisted  October  10,  1861  ;  corporal; 
paroled  at  Appomattox. 


318     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

Boyd,  E.  Holmes;  enlisted  June  28,  1861;  trans 
ferred  to  Ordnance  Department. 

Brooke,  Pendleton;  enlisted  October  28,  1861;  dis 
charged  for  physical  disability. 

Brown,  H.  C. ;  enlisted  1862;  detailed  in  Signal 
Corps. 

*Brown,  John  L. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861 ;  killed  at 
Malvern  Hill. 

Brown,  John  M. ;  enlisted  March  11,  1862;  wounded 
at  Malvern  Hill;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Bryan,  Edward;  enlisted  November  22,  1861. 

Burwell,  Lewis  P.;  enlisted  September  21,  1861; 
transferred. 

Byers,  G.  Newton;  enlisted  August  23,  1861;  cor 
poral;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*Byrd,  W.  H. ;  enlisted  August  15,  1861  ;  killed  at 
Kernstown  March  23,  1862. 

*Byrd,  William. 

*Carson,  William;  enlisted  July  23,  1861 ;  corporal; 
paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Caruthers,  Thornton;  enlisted  December  21,   1862. 

*Chapin,  W.  T. 

Clark,  James  G. ;  enlisted  June  15, 1861 ;  transferred. 

Clark,  J.  Gregory;  enlisted  July  16,  1862;  trans 
ferred. 

Cook,  Richard  D. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*Compton,  Robert  K. ;  enlisted  July  25,  1861; 
paroled  at  Appomattox. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     319 

*Conner,     Alexander;     enlisted     July     23,     1861; 

wounded  May  25,  1862,  at  Winchester;  paroled  at 

Appomattox. 

*Conner,  Daniel;  enlisted  July  27,  1862. 
*Conner,  Fitz  G. 

*Conner,  Henry  C. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Cox,  W.  H. ;  enlisted  July  23.  1861. 
*Craig,  Joseph  E. ;  enlisted  March  2,  1863. 
*Crocken,  Francis  J.  ;  enlisted  March  21,  1862. 
Dandridge,   A.   Stephen;  enlisted   1862;  paroled  at 

Appomattox. 

Darnall,  Andrew  M. ;  captured  at  Deep  Bottom. 
Darnall,  Henry  T. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861;  paroled 

at  Appomattox. 

*Davis,  Charles  W. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
Davis,  James  M.  M. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Davis,  John  E. ;  died  from  disease  June,  1864. 
*Dixon,  W.  H.  H. ;  enlisted  July  23/1861  ;  wounded 

December  13,  1862;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Dold,  C.  M.  ;  enlisted  March  3,  1862;  wounded  at 

Newtown ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
Effinger,   W.    H. ;   wounded   at   Sharpsburg;  trans 
ferred  to  engineers. 
Emmett,     Michael    J. ;     enlisted    June     15,     1861; 

wounded  and  captured  at  Gettysburg. 
Eppes,  W.  H. ;  wounded  September,  1862. 
*Estill,  W.  C. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
Fairfax,     Randolph;    enlisted    August     10,     1861; 

wounded  at  Malvern   Hill ;  killed  at  first   Fred- 

ericksburg. 


320     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 


Faulkner,  E.  Boyd;  enlisted  July  23,  1862;  detailed 

at  headquarters. 
Fishburne,  C.  D. ;  enlisted  June  21,  1861  ;  sergeant; 

lieutenant  in  Ordnance  Department. 
Foutz,  Henry;  enlisted  September  6,  1862;  killed  at 

first  Fredericksburg. 
Frazer,     Robert;    enlisted     November    28,     1862; 

wounded  at  first  Fredericksburg. 
Friend,  Ben  C.  M. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Fuller,  John;  enlisted  July  23,  1861;  wounded  at 

Malvern  Hill;  killed  at  first  Fredericksburg. 
Garnett,  James  M. ;  enlisted  July  17,  1861;  lieuten 
ant  on  staff;  captain  in  Ordnance  Department; 

paroled  at  Appomattox. 
Gibson,  Henry  B. ;  enlisted  May  13,  1862. 
Gibson,  John  T. ;  enlisted  August  14,  1861. 
Gibson,  Robert  A. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
Gilliam,  William  T. 

Gilmer,  James  B. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Gilmore,  J.  Harvey;  enlisted  March  7,  1862;  chap 
lain. 
*Ginger,    George    A.;    enlisted    March    6,    1862; 

wounded  at  Newtown;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Ginger,  W.  L. ;  enlisted  March  6,  1862;  wounded 

and  captured  at  Gettysburg;  prisoner  till  close  of 

war. 
*Gold,  Alfred;  enlisted  July  23,  1861;  wounded  at 

second  Fredericksburg. 
Gooch,   James   T. ;   transferred    from   engineers   in 

1 863  ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     321 

*Goul,  John  M. ;  enlisted  June  14,  1861;  chaplain 
'A.N.V.;  died  of  fever  in  service. 

*Gray,  O.  P.;  enlisted  March  21,  1862;  killed  at 
Kernstown  March  23,  1862. 

Gregory,  John  M. ;  enlisted  September  7,  1861  ; 
wounded  May  25,  1862;  captain  in  Ordnance  De 
partment. 

*Green,  Thomas;  enlisted  1862;  transferred. 

*Green,  Zach. ;  enlisted  1862;  transferred. 

Gross,  Charles;  enlisted  July  27,  1862. 

*Hall,  John  E. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861;  died  near 
Richmond,  1862. 

Heiskell,  J.  Campbell;  enlisted  February  9,  1862; 
wounded  in  1864;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Heiskell,  J.  P.;  enlisted  1862;  discharged  for  physi 
cal  disability. 

*Herndon,  Francis  T. ;  enlisted  March  31,  1862; 
killed  at  Malvern  Hill. 

Hitner,  John  K. ;  enlisted  March  17,  1862 ;  wounded. 

*Holmes,  John  A.;  enlisted  March  11,  1862. 

^Houston,  James  Rutherford ;  enlisted  July  23, 
1861. 

Houston,  William  W. ;  enlisted  August  10,  1861; 
chaplain  A.N.V. 

Hughes,  William;  enlisted  July  23,  1861. 

Hummerickhcmse,  John  R. ;  enlisted  March  28, 
1862. 

Hyde,  Edward  H. ;  enlisted  March  28,  1862;  pa 
roled  at  Appomattox. 

Johnson,  Thomas  E. 


322     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

Jones,  Beverly  R. ;  enlisted  July  3,  1861. 

Kean,  Otho  G. ;  enlisted  after  capture  at  Vicksburg; 
paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Kean,  William  C. ;  enlisted  fall  of  1861 ;  transferred. 

*Knick,  William;  enlisted  August  11,  1862;  mor 
tally  wounded  at  second  Fredericksburg. 

Lacy,  Richard  B. 

Lacy,  William  S. ;  enlisted  March  17,  1862;  de 
tailed  in  Signal  Service;  chaplain. 

Lawson,  Joseph;  enlisted  July  20,  1863. 

Lawson,  William;  enlisted  July  20,  1863. 

Leathers,  John  P. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*Lecky,  John  H. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861 ;  transferred 
to  cavalry. 

Lee,  Robert  E.,  Jr.;  enlisted  March  26,  1862;  lieu 
tenant  on  staff,  and  captain. 

*Leech,  James  M. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*Letcher,  Samuel  H. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*Lewis,  James  P. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861 ;  wounded. 

Lewis,  Nicholas  H. ;  enlisted  June  17,  1861. 

*Link,  David;  transferred  from  Rice's  battery. 

Luke,  Williamson;  enlisted  October  7,  1861;  soon 
transferred  to  cavalry. 

*McAlpin,  Joseph;  enlisted  March  3,  1862;  mortally 
wounded  at  first  Fredericksburg. 

*McCauley,  John  E. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861  ;  cor 
poral,  sergeant;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*McCauley,  William  H. ;  transferred  from  infantry; 
corporal;  killed  April  7,  1865. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     323 

*McClintic,  W.  S. :  enlisted  October  4,  1861  ; 
wounded ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*McCorkle,  Tazwell  E. ;  enlisted  in  Hampden- Sid 
ney  Company  in  1861  ;  captured  at  Rich  Moun 
tain ;  joined  battery  in  1864. 

*McCorkle,  Thomas  E. ;  enlisted  March  9,  1862; 
paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*McCorkle,  William  A.;  enlisted  July  23,  1861; 
paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*McCrum,  R.  Barton ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

McGuire,  Hugh  H.,  Jr.;  enlisted  March  10;  trans 
ferred  to  cavalry  ;  captain  ;  killed. 

McKim,  Robert  B.  ;  enlisted  July  6,  1861  ;  killed  at 
Winchester  May  25,  1862. 

Macon,  Lyttleton  S. ;  enlisted  June  27,  1861  ;  cor 
poral,  sergeant ;  discharged. 

Magruder,  Davenport  D. ;  enlisted  March  1,  1862; 
paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Magruder,  Horatio  E. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*  Marshall,  John  J. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Marshall,  Oscar  M. ;  enlisted  March  6,  1862. 

Massie,  John  Livingstone;  enlisted  May  15,  1861; 
captain  of  artillery  ;  killed. 

*Mateer,  Samuel  L. ;  enlisted  January  11,  1863; 
paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Maury,  Magruder;  enlisted  in  fall  of  1861;  trans 
ferred  to  cavalry. 

Maury,  Thompson  B. ;  enlisted  in  fall  of  1861 ;  de 
tailed  in  Signal  Service. 


324     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

Meade,  Francis  A.;  enlisted  November,  1862;  pa 
roled  at  Appomattox. 

Merrick,  Alfred  D. ;  enlisted  December  30,  1861. 

Minor,  Charles;  enlisted  November  16,  1861;  be 
came  lieutenant  of  engineers. 

Minor,  C.  N.  Berkeley;  enlisted  July  27,  1861;  be 
came  lieutenant  of  engineers. 

Minor,  Launcelot ;  wounded  at  Cumberland  Church. 

*Moore,  Edward  A.;  enlisted  March  3,  1862; 
wounded  at  Sharpsburg  and  twice  at  second  Cold 
Harbor ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*Moore,  John  H. ;  transferred  from  Rockbridge 
Rifles  in  spring  of  1861;  wounded;  paroled  at 
Appomattox. 

*Moore,  John  L. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861  ;  wounded. 
*Mooterspaugh,  William;  enlisted  1862;  paroled  at 

Appomattox. 
Montgomery,    Ben   T. ;   transferred    from   another 

battery;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Myers,  John  M. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
Nelson,  Francis  K. ;  enlisted  May  17,  1861 ;  trans 
ferred  to  Albemarle  Light  Horse. 
Nelson,  Kinloch ;  transferred  from  Albemarle  Light 

Horse ;  disabled  by  caisson  turning  over  on  him ; 

lieutenant  Ordnance  Department. 
Nelson,  Philip;  enlisted  July  27,   1861;  discharged 

by  furnishing  substitute. 
*Nicely,  George  H. ;  enlisted  March  7,   1862;  died 

from  disease,  1864. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     325 

*Nicely,  James  W. ;  enlisted  March  7,  1862;  de 
serted. 

*Nicely,  John  F. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861  ;  wounded 
at  Port  Republic. 

Otey,  William  M. ;  enlisted  1862;  transferred  soon 
thereafter. 

Packard,  Joseph;  enlisted  July  7,  1861;  corporal; 
lieutenant  Ordnance  Department. 

Packard,  Walter  J. ;  enlisted  October  23,  1861 ;  died 
summer  of  1862. 

Page,  Richard  C.  M. ;  enlisted  July  14,  1861 ;  trans 
ferred ;  captain;  major  artillery. 

Page,  R.  Powell;  enlisted  May  1,  1864;  detailed 
courier  to  Colonel  Carter. 

Paine,   Henry  M. 

*Paine,  Henry  R.  ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861  ;  corporal, 
sergeant ;  killed  at  second  Manassas. 

Paine,  James  A. 

*Paxton,  Samuel  A.;  enlisted  March  7,  1862. 

Penclleton,  Dudley  D.  ;  enlisted  June  19,  1861  ;  cap 
tain  and  assistant  adjutant-general,  artillery 
A.N.V. 

*Pleasants,  Robert  A.;  enlisted  March  3,  1863. 

Pollard,  James  G. :  enlisted  July  27,  1864;  paroled 
at  Appomattox. 

Porter,  Mouina  G. ;  enlisted  September  24,  1861; 
detailed  courier. 

*Phillips,  Charles ;  detailed  in  Signal  Service. 

*Pugh,  George  W. ;  enlisted  March  6,  1862;  paroled 
at  Appomattox. 


326    THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

*Pugh,  John  A. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Rawlings,  James  M. 

*Rentzell,    George    W. ;    enlisted    July    23,    1861; 

wounded  at  Kernstown  and  disabled. 
*Robertson,  John  W. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
Robinson,  Arthur ;  enlisted  March  28,  1 862 ;  mor 
tally  wounded  at  first  Fredericksburg. 
*Root,  Erastus  C. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
Ruffin,  Jefferson;  transferred  from  another  battery; 

paroled  at  Appomattox. 
Rutledge,  Charles  A. ;  enlisted  November  3,  1861 ; 

transferred. 

*Sandford,  James ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Saville,  John;  enlisted  July  23,  1861;  transferred 

to  cavalry;  died  in  service. 
*Shaner,  Joseph  F. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861 ;  wounded 

at  first  Fredericksburg;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Shaw,  Campbell  A. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*  Shoulder,  Jacob  M. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
Singleton,    William    F. ;    enlisted    June    3,     1861 ; 

wounded  and  captured  at  Port  Republic. 
*Schammerhorn,  John  G. 
Smith,   J.    Howard;   enlisted    September   2,    1861; 

lieutenant  in  Ordnance  Department. 
Smith,  James  P. ;  enlisted  July  9,  1861 ;  lieutenant 

and  captain  on  staff  of  General  Jackson. 
Smith,  James  Morrison. 
Smith,   Summerfield ;  enlisted   September  2,    1861; 

died  from  disease. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     327 

Stuart,  G.  W.  C. ;  enlisted  May  13,  1862;  wounded 
May  25,  1862;  killed  at  second  Fredericksburg. 

*Strickler,  Joseph ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*  Stuart,  W.  C. ;  wounded  at  second  Cold  Harbor ; 
paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Swan,  Minor  W. ;  enlisted  August  15,  1863  ;  paroled 
at  Appomattox. 

Swan,  Robert  W. 

*Swisher,  Benjamin  R. ;  enlisted  March  3,  1862; 
paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*Swisher,  George  W. ;  enlisted  March  3,  1862; 
wounded  May  25,  1862 ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*Swisher,  Samuel  S. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Tate,  James  F. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Taylor,  Charles  F. 

Taylor,  Stevens  M. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Thompson,  Ambrose;  died  July,  1864. 

*Thompson,  Lucas  P.;  enlisted  August  15,  1861; 
paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Tidball,  Thomas  H. ;  enlisted  March  3,  1862;  pa 
roled  at  Appomattox. 

*Timberlake,  Francis  H. 

*Tomlinson,  James  W. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861. 

Trice,  Leroy  F. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Trueheart,  Charles  W. ;  enlisted  October  24,  1861; 
corporal,  assistant  surgeon. 

Tyler,  D.  Gardner;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Tyler,  John  Alexander;  enlisted  April,  1865;  pa 
roled  at  Appomattox. 

*Van  Pelt,  Robert;  enlisted  July  23,  1861. 


328     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

Veers,  Charles  O. ;  enlisted  September  10,  1861; 
transferred  to  cavalry  soon  thereafter. 

*Vest,  Andrew  J. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861;  dis 
charged. 

*Wade,  Thomas  M. ;  enlisted  March  7,  1862;  pa 
roled  at  Appomattox. 

*Walker,  George  A. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861 ;  trans 
ferred  to  Carpenter's  battery. 

*Walker,  James  S. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861 ;  trans 
ferred  to  Carpenter's  battery. 

*Walker,  John  W. ;  enlisted  July  23,  1861  ;  trans 
ferred  to  Carpenter's  battery. 

Whitt,  Algernon  S. ;  enlisted  August  8,  1861  ;  cor 
poral;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

*White,  William  H. ;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 

Williams,  John  J. ;  enlisted  July  15,  1861;  trans 
ferred  to  Chew's  battery. 

*  Williamson,    Thomas ;    wounded    at    Gettysburg ; 

escaped  at  Appomattox  with  the  cavalry. 
*Williamson,   William   G. ;   enlisted  July   5,    1861; 

captain  of  engineers. 
*Wilson,  Calvin. 
*Wilson,   John;   enlisted   July   22,    1861;   prisoner 

after  Gettysburg;  took  the  oath. 

*  Wiseman,  William;  enlisted  March  10,  1862. 
*Wilson,    Samuel    A.;    enlisted    March    3,    1862; 

wounded  at  Gettysburg ;  captured ;  died  in  prison. 
*Wilson,  William  M. ;  enlisted  August   12,    1861; 

corporal. 
Winston,  Robert  B. ;  enlisted  August  25,  1861. 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     329 

*Withrow,  John;  paroled  at  Appomattox. 
*Woody,  Henry;  transferred  from  infantry,  1864; 

deserted. 
*Wright,   John   W. ;   enlisted    1864;   wounded   and 

disabled  at  Spottsylvania  Court  House. 
Young,  Charles  E. ;  enlisted  March  17,  1862. 

The  Rockbridge  Artillery  took  part  in  the  follow 
ing  engagaments : 

Raines ville,  July  2,  1861. 
First  Manassas,  July  21,  1861. 
Kernstown,  March  23,  1862. 
Winchester,  May  25,  1862. 
Charlestown,  May,  1862. 
Port  Republic,  June  8  and  9,  1862. 
White  Oak  Swamp,  June  30,  and  Malvern  Hill, 
July  1,  1862. 

Cedar  Run,  August  9,  1862. 

Second  Manassas,  August  28,  29  and  30,  1862. 

Harper's  Ferry,  September  15,  1862. 

Sharpsburg,  September  17,  1862. 

First  Fredericksburg,  December  13,  1862. 

Second  Fredericksburg,  May  2  and  3,  1863. 

Winchester,  June  14,  1863. 

Gettysburg,  July  2  and  3,  1863. 

Rappahannock  Bridge,  November  9,  1863. 

Mine  Run,  November  27,  1863. 

Spottsylvania  Court  House,  May  12,  1864. 

Cold  Harbor,  June  3,  1864. 

Deep  Bottom,  July  27,  1864. 


330     THE  STORY  OF  A  CANNONEER 

New  Market  Heights,  September,  1864. 

Fort  Gilmore,  1864. 

Cumberland  Church,  April  7,  1865. 

The  battery  saw  much  service  in  fighting  gunboats 
on  James  River,  and  took  part  in  many  skirmishes 
not  mentioned. 

The  number  of  men,  enrolled  as  above,  is  three 
hundred  and  five  (305),  of  whom  one  hundred  and 
seventy-three  (173)  were  from  the  county  of  Rock- 
bridge.  Of  the  remainder,  a  large  part  were  stu 
dents,  college  graduates,  University  of  Virginia  men, 
and  some  divinity  students.  These,  with  the  sturdy 
men  from  among  the  farmers  and  business  men  of 
Rockbridge,  made  up  a  company  admirably  fitted 
for  the  artillery  service. 

The  efficiency  of  the  battery  was  due  in  no  small 
part  to  its  capacity  for  rapid  marching  and  maneu 
vering,  and  this  to  the  care  and  management  of  the 
horses  mainly  by  men  from  this  county.  In  the 
spring  of  1862  a  large  number  of  men  was  recruited 
for  the  battery,  'whose  names  are  not  on  the  above 
roll,  and  some  of  whom  were  engaged  in  the  battle 
of  Kernstown.  In  April,  1862,  while  encamped  at 
Swift  Run  Gap,  authority  was  given  by  General 
Jackson  to  reorganize  the  battery,  making  three 
companies  thereof,  with  the  view  to  form  a  battalion. 
Immediately  after  two  companies  had  been  organ 
ized  by  the  election  of  officers,  the  authority  for  mak 
ing  three  companies  was  revoked,  and  an  order  is- 


UNDER   STONEWALL  JACKSON     331 

sued  to  form  one  company  only,  and  giving  to  all 
the  men  not  embraced  in  this  one  company  the  priv 
ilege  of  selecting  a  company  in  any  branch  of  the 
service.  A  large  number  of  men,  thus  temporarily 
connected  with  the  Rockbridge  Artillery,  availed 
themselves  of  this  privilege  whose  names  do  not 
appear  on  the  above  roll.  It  would  now  be  impossi 
ble  to  make  up  this  list. 

RECAPITULATION 

Enrolled  as  above,  three  hundred  and  five  (305  ). 

Number  from  Rockbridge  Count}',  one  hundred 
and  seventy-three  (173). 

Killed  in  battle,  twenty -three  (23). 

Died  of  disease  contracted  in  service,  sixteen  (  16  ). 

Wounded  more  or  less  severely,  forty-nine  ( 49  ) . 

Slightly  wounded,  names  not  given,  about  fifty 
(50). 

Discharged  from  service  for  disability  incurred 
therein,  ten  (10). 

Took  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  Federal  Govern 
ment  while  in  prison,  two  (2). 

Deserted,  five  (5). 

Promoted  to  be  commissioned  officers,  thirty-nine 
(39). 

Paroled  at  Appomattox,  ninety-three  (93). 

So  great  was  the  loss  of  horses,  there  having 
been  over  a  hundred  in  this  battery  killed  in  battle, 
that  during  the  last  year  of  the  war  they  were  un 
hitched  from  the  guns  after  going  into  action  and 
taken  to  the  rear  for  safetv. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED   FOR   FAILURE  TO   RETURN 
THIS   BOOK   ON   THE   DATE   DUE.    THE   PENALTY 

WILI 


RETURN     CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 

TO—  ^      202  Main  Library 

LOAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

Renewals  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 

Books  may  be  Renewed  by  calling     642-3405. 


DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 

n  C  0  °  ft  1Q85 

W%&  Dtl*  ^  ^  139* 
rrn  1  r?  onnn 

i  LU  17  2000 

SENT  ON  ILL 

M*R1*MW 

U.  C.  BERKELEY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


BOOD715127 


M57292 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


